North of the Platform

The last bus left and the lights were still on. Some things in the city happen behind the fence and at the dinner table; some say it is the progress, some say it is the day. When it comes to the end, there is often only a cough in silence. "North of the Platform" describes how two people slowly approach the same understanding in the hustle and bustle: one has a habit of first feeling for loose parts with his hands, and the other has a habit of straightening out words on paper before speaking them out. They are not good at performing correctly, but they all still remember that people must stand firm before they can sign. There is no thunderous answer here, only the wind blowing from the alley, carrying moisture and the smell of fireworks not far away. What you read may not be about victory or defeat, but about someone who is still willing to leave the door open a crack in the long night to finish his words. The monsoon goes north. The story is told very lightly, but the days are always there; the light parts allow people to breathe, but the serious parts are not urgent. Please walk slowly.