I once saw a city, an old abandoned city, a lonely city where the sun always shines softly.
However, although the old city is ruined, more people's love lives there.
I love the beauty there, the rain there, and the imperfection there.
That touch of aura that cannot be replicated or expressed in words.
I also lived there for a period of time. At that time, the house I lived in was opposite a bridge, and even the eaves were made of tiles.
My neighbor is an indistinguishable old man. He lives alone in that empty house. Every morning, he hears rustling sounds, and then the wooden door is pushed open, and the old man sits in front of the door with a pot of tea.
Just sit there for hours.
I think he was waiting for the sunrise.
I once read a saying by Xue Xiaochan: As you get older, you tend to develop a sense of lonely beauty and poignancy.
How can you be beautiful when you are old?
Later I realized that the beauty is not the person, but the state of mind.