A group of Beijing children spent most of their lives in the entanglement of love and hatred. In the end, I found that the bamboo basket was empty. Youth is gone, and all spirit is lost. In the second half of the journey, I can only rely on memories to prove that I once had the ability to love. Pretentious and hypocritical, cowardly and helpless.
Intention: Remembering those of us who once had the ability to love