I am always grateful for small favors. When I was a child, the aunt who packed my lunch sent me a plate of edamame. I happily went home and told my mom, "Look, she sent edamame." My mom remembered this for a long time, implying that I was easily bought by a plate of edamame. She said, "I've raised you for so long, but I haven't seen you grateful to me." My mom has felt unbalanced for many years, but I think it's reasonable. Since I was born, I have occupied most of her life, except for work, it's all about me. I don't want to lose most of my life like her, even though having a child would be a special experience, the risk is too high.
In my early twenties, hormones were raging, thinking that there was nothing to lose and not cherishing myself. I was lazy to judge the authenticity of my relationships with others, growing into a mess of weeds. Occasionally, there were moments of blooming flowers that quickly withered. I always sought from others, thinking that everyone else seemed more fulfilled than me. So, I wanted to see what everyone else found meaningful, only to realize that very few actually found it, just having something to do was considered good. After searching for a few years, I was determined to create my own little world.
Although not yet clear-headed, I slowly drifted away from those vines that always entangled others without realizing it. They seemed to think that being with me gave them meaning. I used to think that I should accommodate or tolerate the aggression of others because someone told me that this aggression is often caused by pain and should be understood and empathized with. But I found that I couldn't persist because it also caused me pain. For a long time, I became fragile and suspicious, unable to enjoy the simple joy of socializing with others outside, relying on electronic junk at home. The various faces of humanity played out in various media like a revolving lantern, and the thick moss left me barely surviving in the dark and damp. Even after cutting off the vines, it would take a long time to stand upright again and see the sunlight.
After spending too long in the dark, when I saw the sunlight in Guangzhou, I was almost stunned, not knowing how to react. I felt very shy and couldn't look directly at it. But that moment seemed to freeze into ice crystals, shining in a corner of my memory filled with mushrooms. There was a part of me in that sunlight too. Thinking like this, I felt very fortunate and gained confidence. Constantly sucking on sour oranges, my illness was cured. It's truly a tropical place, delicious, cheap, and joyful. I really want to come here every July in the future.
The reality of the sun is truly scorching. When I got off the subway and couldn't walk home dragging my suitcase in Hangzhou, I wanted to pay the delivery guy on the side of the road to take me home. He said, "I'm free anyway, so I'll take you." When we reached the entrance of the community, I handed him the money, but he gently pushed my hand away, turned around, and rode off on his electric scooter. I was stunned again. If edamame promotes sales, then this journey of idleness has no benefits. I, a meticulous person, was still thinking about how much it costs to charge an electric scooter and the cost of five minutes of labor. I had to keep this kindness in my heart, as if it could resist some of the increasing hostility in today's society. The cover image shows the sample paper of Persian red grass that died after being sun-dried at home.
At the end of July 2024, I started a new life. I have no attachment to the past and am full of expectations for the future. People in the world are diverse, and I want to arrogantly become myself.