I always have some dreams, and dream about a lot of strange things. In these dreams, I seem to be just a bystander. Those dreams are very profound, and there are many scenes that I cannot describe, but I know those things are very profound. As I grow older, those dreams seem to be just some sketches of my boyhood, or childhood. It seems that I can never go back to that time of whimsy. The "profoundness" I once thought has been diluted by time. Maybe I still only remember a little bit, a drop in the bucket. I am not a knowledgeable person and do not have a high degree of education. I write and draw just for fun. With this starting point, it seems that I have no burden. Because my writing is not good, I just copy and write.