When I first saw that painting when I was ten years old, I was deeply attracted by the vivid back figure in the painting. In the thick mist that could not be dissolved, a woman with long and graceful hair paused at the moment when she was about to turn around and look back.
From then on, she often appeared in my dreams. I cried to her, laughed to her, and talked to her.
Several years later, I realized that the dream had such absurd reality. Her soul guided me in the dark, allowing me to slowly get closer to him, fall in love with him, and be bound by his love for the rest of my life.
I stopped my wandering footsteps and hugged her tightly, as if I was hugging another version of myself. Looking at that similar face, I seemed to have found the coordinates of my life. Where to go, I was no longer confused.