When I was 15 years old, carrying a small bag on my back, I left my hometown alone, which I was familiar with but had no nostalgia for. Perhaps it's because he grew up in an orphanage.
I habitually stand in a secluded corner amidst the hustle and bustle, observing the passing of all kinds of people with a cold eye, spying on the polite care without warmth flowing under the fake smile. For me, the world is full of strangeness and distrust. Apart from him, a passer-by who broke into my life recklessly brought a warm color to my originally desolate and cold memories of 15 years. However, that intersection was unexpected and abrupt, like a fleeting whirlwind, returning to its original parallel lines in an instant.
Conception: