Narrating these stories is also like sorting out old things.
When you turn over the faded scarf, you remember who knitted it; when you see the chipped cup, you remember who dropped it; when you touch the yellowed photo, you remember whose smiling face it is. They are not legends, they are just scraps of firewood, rice, oil and salt, but when put together, they become a bustling human world.
People always ask, why keep these?
Probably because people passing by will leave, but the warmth they leave behind will suddenly pop up on a cold day to remind you: you have been loved well.
Intention: Ordinary people's songs in ordinary alleys.