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孤
Watching the Heart on a Gushan Mountain
Qitian RoadUrban57k Wordsongoing
Sixteen years ago, in the cold fog of late winter, on the Bluestone Ridge, an old hunter picked up an abandoned baby. No father, no mother, no name, no surname, wrapped in shabby swaddling clothes, neither crying nor fussing, only opening a pair of eyes as calm as a pool. For sixteen years in Gushan, I didn't study, I didn't know how to read, I didn't learn the rules of the world. Only practice one method - observe all things quietly and reflect the world with your heart. Look at the sky and
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