Drug Traces

In the years when the fragrance of medicine spreads, there are always some traces that cannot be erased. Is it the blood stains on father's prescription, the residue of medicine between mother's fingers, the rags on Ah He's thimble, or the calluses on Song Kuang's palm. These traces are hidden in the lines of the bluestone grinding grooves, soaked in the annual rings of the old osmanthus trees, and accompanied by the fragrance of medicine that permeates the morning and dusk in the south of the Yangtze River, becoming imprints that time cannot take away.