This is the third winter without you and my second year in Moscow. The snow on both sides of the street is getting thicker and thicker. People are wrapped in thick scarves and knitted hats, walking in a hurry under the bright yellow light. The cold is blowing on their faces and inhaled into their noses. The lotuses in West Lake are gone. How are you in Hangzhou?
Intention: Still missing and loving, still letting go