The flowing blue is divided into half.
At both ends of the city, the white clouds are so light. The left bank of the river has warmed up.
When the seasons secretly change, no matter how many twists and turns the streets overlap, there is no way to get back to yesterday.
The sun is bright, but the sky is dark and blue.
On the other side of time, we looked at each other and were washed away.
When the thoughts slowly break apart, when the world still comes back to your face, there is no change...
I only have a hunch but no answer. Whether we are used to it or not, those fragments do not count.
It may turn right or left, and whether we like it or not, the story is not always the same in the end.
I only have a hunch but no answer. Regardless of whether we are used to it or not, those good feelings don't count.
We may turn right or left, whether we like it or not, the mistakes we make are not all the same.
--------------- "Turn Right on the Left Bank" by Karen Mok