There is a small restaurant in an alley covered with sycamore trees.
They sell coffee and flowers, and they also store some worries that have nowhere to put them.
The shop owner Xuanyang has an orange cat named Qi Qi. Every time a special guest comes, he will ask the guest to write a postcard and hang it on the hemp rope on the top of the floor-to-ceiling window.
The first one was written by a girl who got first place in the exam but was unhappy: "Can I be the second best version of myself?"
The second picture was sewn on by a boy who had been a tailor for four years: "My name is Xia Tian. I am a clothes maker."
The third one was written by a primary school student who waits for his father to finish work in the alley every day: "Dad, I dreamed that you turned into a child again."
Ten postcards, ten stories of ordinary people. There is regret but also warmth, like the wind passing through the leaves of the sycamore tree and falling on the windowsill.
The wind blew over, and the thin pieces of paper collided gently, turning into the quietest wind chimes in the city.
——All adults were once children, but only a few remember it.
Intention: See the glimmer of light in everyone