When I was a child, Manman had a lot of imagination about the future. I hoped that there would be blue sky, soft wind, green trees every day in the future and that I could always live a slow life, just like a snail, crawling slowly and growing up slowly. Maybe I would meet a snail like myself on one of the roads. The dream of eating together and waiting for death and a mouth that can boast a lot of bullshit to the sky. No matter when the time comes, the two of us can be together happily, eat slowly, walk slowly, be in a daze slowly, open a small shop called Slowly, write a book called Slowly, and then slowly watch ourselves grow old.