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Tears blooming in the night rain
墨書 Inktalez
I have never seen so many windmills on the land of China, just like those standing in the Netherlands.
The earth is burning, and it's hard to tell if it's clouds or time. The sky is bright white. A ship has already docked, but it's too far away.
I caught a glimpse of his chat history through the car window, and the continuous green extends like cracks into the depths of my heart.
"Do you want to eat Sachima?"
He asked me, handing over a piece.
The driver also doesn't eat.
"This is the drink I bought for you..."
I hesitated when getting off the car to shop, but in the end, I bought three bottles and handed them over.
"Thank you."
The driver didn't say much and accepted the fare, then pulled the lever.
"Next, we will begin a journey of several hours."
The acne on his face reminded me of the brother I met when I was young, who always stayed up late playing LOL. I still remember the night he played Lissandra.
"You're here again, little rascal."
"Stop stealing my instant noodles."
Hmm... If he's still alive now, where could he be?
Where do those people who disappear from memory go?
On my dad's construction site, there was a young couple who treated me to free ice cream, saying it was because I was very cute.
"You see, what a cute child."
The man was very taciturn, while the woman was as beautiful as the actress in an old music video.
They... are they from Taiwan or Hong Kong...
I can't remember.
Hmm, I'm sorry.
For a while, my dad always took me to wander the streets and alleys, in this world I didn't know, in those places I wasn't familiar with.
He bought me a lot of pineapples, sour and sweet. All skewered with chopsticks.
There are also many toys, similar to the ones I like.
He took me on a kind of vehicle, with beds on the upper and lower levels. That was the first time, and so far the last time.
Just like in the old music videos.
The things we said we'd buy when we grew up, now either we don't love them anymore or they're gone.
Just like everything that disappeared from our memories.
Food, fun, songs, love, emotions.
Like everything that has disappeared from memory.
My brother has been married for many years, but now the person I once relied on so much seems like a stranger to me.
I remember when he took me to find his girlfriend in the college campus. I woke up alone in the girls' dormitory at that time.
"You're awake? They went to buy food. They'll be back soon."
The big sister with glasses looked at me so gently.
Where are they now if they were still alive?
The morning sun today is just like countless memories of day and night.
"Home is as quiet as a needle."
The descriptions recorded in the elementary school textbooks occasionally appear in front of my eyes.
Those things whose names I only knew after they were gone, those toys I only watched cartoons of after they were broken, those foods with a different taste than before, those memories long gone. One after another, like sour lemons, bittersweet. It makes people blush, makes people cry.
Holding my dad's hand, following him. The world is both fragile and stable. The flood of memories roars by, the sun is high at noon, the taste of boxed lunches fills the streets. We went to place after place, not knowing if we would come back, and stayed in a hotel for three nights. The sweetness and sourness of pineapples, each has its own merits.
Upon careful consideration, soup can also be considered a type of beverage. So it doesn't seem strange to serve it in a paper cup. Floating in the pale yellow liquid are a few strands of red silk, this is tomato and egg soup. The unique taste of plastic as it enters the mouth is both enticing and melancholic.
- "Dream of the Unicorn"
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