Library

This was all in the mid-1990s. Memories are fragmentary, largely inaccurate, and deceptive. I dare not say that they have any significance. The first thing that comes to mind is the house, where the most important things happen. There are about ten houses of the same style adjacent to each other, seven or eight rows in front and back: four floors high, with gray cement walls, dark vermilion painted wooden doors and window frames. The alley is smooth and there is no protrusion or recess in any house. If you stand in mid-air, you will feel that the "cut edges" of this area are neat. There is a small garden at the front door of the house, with green leaves and mosses popping out from the wall, but most people come in and out through the back door. At least, that's how we are. Therefore, I am familiar with the back door of "my own" house and the front door of other people's houses. Later, my memory became dim and distorted, but I still had some impression of the green diamond-shaped pattern on the stone guardrails of the balconies on the second and third floors of other people's homes.

So, everything is an illusion. Moreover, it is not the kind of illusion that happens before your eyes and you can reach out and touch it as if you can touch it. This illusion is like a cyst, lurking somewhere in the internal organs. It lasts forever. It is cared for by herself day by day and grows slowly. However, you cannot notice it. Has anything happened since then? Staring may just be because of confusion; speaking in unison because in the eyes of others, they are all aliens; the truth spoken after drinking is no different from nonsense; not daring to move forward because of low self-esteem - this is the biggest joke.