Just like twenty-two years ago, the light outside the window floated on the joints of his fingers. At that time, you knew that even if you were waiting, time would still not stop. Twenty-two years later, it is still the same sun, with golden light scattered on his palms. You look at the interlaced lines on the canvas, the direction of palm prints. Where is the coincidence? The person you fell in love with when you were twenty-two years old, and the twenty-two-year-old boy who broke into your dusty restricted area a few years later. Everything fits together and it must happen. Red, black, and white, independent and intertwined colors, unrelated and entangled trajectories, maybe everyone will fall in love with such a person who is like a father, like a mother, and like a lover when they are young. When youth fades away, there will be such a person who is like a son, like a daughter, and like a lover. When the water passes, the clouds roll, and the wind blows, they often just change the appearance and continue to be there. Who is the stranger to whom?
Conception: