That summer when time went back, I dragged my sick body invaded by a virus called impetuous and carelessly walked around Chengdu again and again. The airtight sky above our heads is always a pencil gray. Carelessness, this is the theme of an entire impetuous summer. The people I love, the people who love me, and the faces that have nothing to do with me and are crowded in my world, close your eyes. There is a sense of depression in the air, the occasional chirping of birds, and the buzzing of mosquitoes that always appear in every scene wearing short skirts or shorts. Swallows flying low among the buildings, the girl without an umbrella, the eaves where I hide from the rain. Everything is disrupted by that clue called the past. Clean up the devastation. The staves scattered across the four dimensions of the piano, the notes drawn in black pencil, and the emotions poured into the lyrics are all just to prove your existence. Existence, quietness separates the gray boundary between darkness and light, random scribblings on the drawing paper, and oil paint flowing into the blood. Use the last days of youth to draw your figure. All this is this floating summer.