On July 14, 1789, Louis XVI wrote four words in his diary: "Nothing to do today."
For me, this may be the most ordinary but extraordinary day in my life, or an early morning from 10 pm to 6 am. This year, I am 16 years old, 15 and a half years old to be exact. I decided to spend some time to turn my short 16 years into words. Of course I hope that others will be willing to read it. I can't say that this is an extravagant wish, but it is like hoping that honey dripping into water will not melt. Everything here is at least sweet.
Maybe it's an all-nighter, or maybe it's a few nights. I would like to sleep with the stars, but there are no stars above the city. On a windless night, the crying child sat at the table, crying quietly. This is not sadness, it is the dew of youth, and everything is moved by it.
Intention: The pain of existence and the way forward