I can't always see clearly what the person across from me looks like and call each other's names. Do people I know know him as well as I do. Who else is out there, and is the world in their eyes the real world? I'm always looking for someone. We made an appointment in a previous life, see you there or not. On the Sansheng Stone, beside the Wangchuan River, the soul that was marked repeatedly refused to succumb to that bowl of soup. She asked me, are you leaving? I said I haven't found it yet. She asked me, who are you looking for? What's your name? I looked at the lines on my palms and smiled bitterly. What I am looking for is a smiling face left in the corner of the sofa where the sun shines in. What I am looking for is the warmth of interlocking fingers. What I am looking for is the eyes of recognition on the shoulder. What I am looking for is the first loud cry that pulled me back on the road to hell... There, someone called my name.