Library

The night is like a curtain, and a Milky Way pours out. He asked: Where to go? I was a little confused over the weekend, and felt depressed when I recalled this journey that spanned thousands of years. What he misses most is the days of ignorance before he was fourteen years old, where there was no fighting and no lingering smell of death. Instead, there was the sweet aroma of albizia flowers in the air and the delicious smell of fried noodles. Yes, oily noodles. Thinking of the food on the weekend, I started to yearn for it again. I sipped my saliva and said to him: Three thousand years from now, we won't even be able to eat chili peppers here.