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Last Year I Was Almost Eighteen
Short Fiction去年我差点十八
Black Mechanical Pencil
Where are you going? Where are you going to drift to in this life? The best thing is not water, and the best thing is neither you nor me. What are we fighting for? What is the object of discussion? If the thing agreed upon in the world is a stone, Should the stone be thrown or left in one's own hands? Is happiness in your heart or in front of you? Maybe, in the end it will just become this sentence, Live in sorrow, live in joy. Live openly and naturally, growing freely, like an ancient tree.
Where are you going? Where are you going to drift to in this life? The best thing is not water, and the best thing is neither you nor me. What are we fighting for? What is the object of discussion? If the thing agreed upon in the world is a stone, Should the stone be thrown or left in one's own hands? Is happiness in your heart or in front of you? Maybe, in the end it will just become this sentence, Live in sorrow, live in joy. Live openly and naturally, growing freely, like an ancient tree.
Have a Friend
Urban有一个朋友
Black Mechanical Pencil
You came back, you left. That's all I have. I left, are you still there? Walk away laughing in your life. I still love you! Honey. May you depart from me, behold! I still love you!
You came back, you left. That's all I have. I left, are you still there? Walk away laughing in your life. I still love you! Honey. May you depart from me, behold! I still love you!