The snow on winter nights is an unhealed wound, condensed in the cracks of memory.
The boy rummaged through his father's old things for answers, but he only encountered the crisp sound of expired pill boxes, cracks in ceramic cups, and the sound of his mother's wandering footsteps late at night. Ice crystals reflect neon light on the window sill, like a silent confrontation - the broken photo album freezes the false family portrait, while the medical certificate hidden in the back of the poetry collection is quietly melting with the snow.
When the stars and ice fell to the ground at the same time, who lit the last cigarette in the darkness?
Those unspoken lies, rusty pens, and cigarette butts in the ICU corridor all condensed into new obsessions in the melting starlight. The porridge in the morning was still piping hot.
Intent: Looking for the light of day on a cold night, witnessing warmth in a desperate situation, and lifting up the warmth of human nature with tenacity and mutual help.