This text is a dream
The reality of the dream, after waking up, I toss and turn in sleep.
Like a play, like a one-act play directed and performed by oneself.
Step by step
The hand is no longer the embroidered incense fan, it has become the gun that kills people with laughter and curses.
When the truth is hidden behind the extravagant appearance, who can tell the difference between right and wrong? Is it innocence and ignorance or cunning and cunning?
You weren't supposed to be here, so why did you enter my dream and accompany me to play out this crazy dream that came to nothing?