Death is also life, life is also death, and life is toward death.
If you don't sleep too late, you will have lice in your heart. Sometimes you are turbulent, sometimes restless, sometimes passionate, and sometimes feel lost. You want to take your heart out, smash it on the ground and step on it, then pick it up, tear it and knead it, eat it like raw beef, bite it hard, then chew it carefully and quietly, with empty eyes, holding the broken heart in your hand, chewing it in your mouth, tears rolling down, but you smile. After eating enough, I put my heart back, wiped my hands and mouth with my clothes, curled up my legs in my arms and put them close to my heart, stared into the endless darkness with my eyes, until I closed my eyes and finally fell asleep.