The sunshine outside the city has begun to become softer.
Like the yellowed fragments of old movie footage, the silent dialogue and black and white colors leap into view.
This city repeats things that seem different every day, but in fact they are essentially the same.
People came and went in this city, passing by in a hurry, forgetting the scenery along the way, and began to become insensitive.
It's the end of July, and a heavy rain has pushed down all the dust in the air.
After the rain, fog enveloped the entire city.
Occasionally drizzle falls, like a flower blooming in the dust.
It always makes me feel a little bit like Jiangnan, even though I know it is not Jiangnan.
However, these thoughts are wrapped around the fingertips like an inexplicable complex, spreading to the heart step by step.
The two time and spaces seemed to be intertwined.
It seems that if you reach out and touch, you can touch another fingertip that belongs to you.
Over there, there is a completely different city.