I met you in the most hostile year, and then we parted ways, and it will be difficult for us to meet again in this life. Only in many inadvertent moments, your face will appear in the crowd. If someone happens to be singing a bitter love song in your ear, your emotions will become difficult to control.
——Sometimes at dusk or late at night, I talk to myself and tell you. Regardless of whether you can hear it or not, I often think of Rilke's poem:
You are the cloud that weeps and dies quickly,
Or blood-red petals?
Not necessarily.