That day, I hesitated in the afterglow of the setting sun. Not to sigh, just because the tears no longer caress your face. In that month, I turned around all my finances. Not for salvation. Just to touch your fingerprints. That year, I kowtowed and embraced the dust. Not to worship Buddha, just to be close to your warmth. In that life, I traveled through thousands of rivers and mountains. Not to miss you in the next life, just to meet you on the road.