>I took a photo of his sketchbook in an abandoned steel factory, and the pages were filled with fluttering birds.
>Lu Xuan, an urban planning intern, always comes in the early morning to draw buildings that are about to be demolished.
>He doesn't know that behind the camera, I sleep with his paintings under my pillow every night.
>Until the day the bulldozers rolled into the factory, he clutched the shutdown document and yelled at me: "You already knew that, right?"
>I lowered my head and kissed the rust off his eyelashes: "Now I know - the birds in your paintings always lack a pair of perching feet."
>He opened my camera tremblingly, and the same words were written on each of the nine hundred candid photos: Lu Xuan, look back at me.
Intention: pure love