Library

For me, Guangxi is a land that is both real and virtual. Living here, yet feeling far away from it. This involuntary detachment has an almost indestructible attraction to me. I'm curious, is what is imprinted on the ceramic a sustenance, a prophecy, or a spell? Does the muddy yellow solidified in the fire convey love or express anger? I am curious whether the characters on the rock worshiped heaven and gods and then migrated, or whether they talked about being content with one's fate and being content with one's destiny. I was curious about the fiery and desolate swirling in the witch tunes, the lingering yet decisive folk songs on the river, the sound of wind and rain collected in an ancient town, the squirrels I met in the pine forest, the laughter coming from the depths of the sea... I sorted out these curiosity and feelings while walking and turned them into this prose poem.