Collection of short stories.
This is my third world. Apart from the air, there are mechanical sounds everywhere. I stand at the top of this world, watching and narrating all this. I don't know what sadness is, I don't know what love is, and I don't know what emotions are. Year after year, day after day, my third world, I don't know whether I have too much or lack too much. I want to understand now, what is love and what is emotion. It's just that I am still a bystander, watching quietly, and then writing stories one after another with words.
It comes suddenly - inspiration always comes like this. The words here range from a few hundred words to more than 10,000 words. They are just inspiration. Maybe when I look at the dim light of the desk lamp, I can see a story, a story from my third world. I don't think it is fake. On the contrary, I think it is very real, as if it is so real that it does not exist, but it appears in the third world.
It rained again today. It rained very hard. My cat got wet. Although I dried all its hair, I could see little raindrops in its golden eyes. Today, my stepmother was angry. She changed her gentleness and yelled at me. Maybe this was to express her anger. The only thing I can do is to endure it silently, because I know that I will understand more and understand more.