When we were sixteen years old, we opened the lock of the lighthouse for the first time. Standing on the top of the tower, looking at the boundless sky and sea, I took out a piece of paper towel from my pocket, rolled it into a pen shape, and wrote down my sixteen-year-old wish on the dust on the ground.
It was an evening sunset, with golden spots flooding the deep blue sea.
When I was twenty-one, we were walking on the bamboo plank road with wrong steps, and the car was parked far behind us.
I heard that the girl who sang here in the early years has married a gentleman who likes singing. The boy she once cuddled with went north to study and got a good degree. He took his parents away and never came back.
I couldn't help but take a few steps to keep up with him.
Intention: Let's talk about it.
