The name of the prose collection: "Poems of Flowing Scenery"**
Introduction
In this life, we are actually constantly engaged in an unequal negotiation with "time".
Every word in the book is a fragment that I salvaged from the turbulent torrent of time. They are not earth-shattering legends, nor are they deliberately pathos. They are just some "flowing scenes" - a tired profile reflected on the subway glass, a beam of cold light leaking out when the automatic door of a convenience store opens and closes late at night, and a brief trance when I am on the streets of a foreign land at dusk and suddenly forget why I set out.
I clumsily cut and collaged these detailed scenes, trying to overcome the unspeakable emptiness.
This is not a eulogy looking back at youth, nor does it have the kind of pain that makes one cry hoarse. I am just recording how an ordinary person tries to settle down in this huge and sometimes indifferent city. Regarding the alienation of family ties, the fading of friendship, and the wear and tear of love, I no longer try to sew them up, but choose to just watch them crack.
Cutting poems based on flowing scenes is nothing more than temporarily freezing in words those things that are disappearing.
If you have ever felt speechless for a moment in the hustle and bustle, or felt inexplicably lonely in a crowd, then these words may be a break for you at this moment.
Intention: Qiu Yingying