Utopia in Light and Shadow

My hometown has a long rainy season, and the hazy fog shines through, marking the road. In the winding roads, there are more houses, stone bridges, signboards, and the breakfast shop. In the tenth year since I left home, I fell off the high-speed rotating top of the city and returned to the humid fog of my hometown with my worn-out dreams and ennui. The train retreated all the way, and the prosperity was left behind, until the familiar breath flowed into the nasal cavity again - it was not touching, but a kind of physiological relaxation. I walked across the Old Bridge with my suitcase and watched the mist flow by. I'm not here to find answers, I'm here to let myself get lost completely, to let this huge and gentle blur wrap up all the sharp marks until they are smoothed away by this boundless moisture. Healing may start from this first complete loss.