Memory is like a storyteller,
Speaking in a voice thick with the sounds of home,
Skipping puddles, circling villages,
Waiting for fate to bring us together.
You molded a city out of mud,
Saying you'd marry me someday.
How many turns, how many doors,
And all that youth thrown away.
Our little promise was still unsteady,
Our little tears still holding on.
Our tender lips spoke of parting.
From then on, someone lived in my heart.
We were both so little back then.
That year, you carried your little stool,
And I followed along, lost in the play.
I'm searching for the person in that story,
The one I can't do without.
You dozed beneath the tree,
While little me waited like a fool.
"Little" by Joey Yung
I dedicate this book to my beloved Xiaoxiao.
Mo Chang, in our youth, we could love without restraint. But now time has passed, starlight shines like a halo, our lives have settled into their proper paths, and we've grown up. At this point, should we let go?
