Before the age of thirty-five, I felt that life was an uphill road and I could just keep going.
After I was thirty-five years old, I fell. When I looked up, I realized that the road was full of people who had fallen.
Some people sat and cried, some dusted them off and continued walking, and some squatted on the roadside and handed a cigarette to a stranger. . . . .
Not to inspire, but because they deserve to be seen - including myself.
Write about the difficulties of ordinary people, and also write about the light that refuses to be extinguished in the difficulties.
