The sky seven seconds later

Being a fish, after seven seconds it feels like you’ve gone through a cycle of reincarnation.

The joys and sorrows of past lives have all vanished into the transparent world.

Everything became a perception that was neither painful nor noticeable.

A water glass was placed on the windowsill, and a red goldfish was kept inside.

Its only shelter was a glass cup that it usually used for drinking water.

The place was pitifully small, yet it was a matter of life and death.

Legend has it that fish have a memory of only seven seconds, so perhaps this lonely place will be an eternal paradise.

Without memories, without joy, there is no pain.

Just like a person, without expectations, one loses one’s soul.

A person without spirit or soul is nothingness in existence.

Sometimes walking along streets lined with trees,

The bright sunshine was very comforting.

But all that could be seen was desolation.

It looks just like the Gobi Desert in northern China.

Standing still,

For a moment, I felt like I was the only person left in the world.

Looking at that distant end,

Suddenly, I wished I could just keep going like this forever.

There was no purpose, and no destination.

My feet were treading on the fallen leaves scattered on the ground.

Watching the sunlight and leaves intertwine to create dappled shadows.

At this time,

Regardless of who is whose warmth,

Who is a passerby in whose life?

Who is decorating whose dream?

Who is acting out whose story?

Who was etched on the Stone of Three Incarnations?

Who wept for whom, their tender heart breaking?

At this moment, none of that matters anymore.

You need a place you’ve never been before.

There, the water glistens beautifully, and the mountains are shrouded in mist.

There were no crowds of tourists.

There was no dazzling array of goods.

It never stored any of your expectations.

You just happened to pass by.

Passing by that vast sea of ​​flowers,

Flowers in full bloom

It awakens your eyes and empties your heart.

All thoughts and confusions disappeared,

No need to reminisce about the past.

No need to expect tomorrow,

There’s no need to dwell on past joys and sorrows.

To fill the box of life.

There is no need to weave any shackles.

Natural breathing is like a fish in a cup.

No matter what the circumstances, one can live freely.

Seven seconds later,

Every inch of the place you swim through will be a new world.

Anyone who raises fish knows that the number of fish needs to be substantial, otherwise they are very likely to die.

So one fish is destined to be alone.

Even if all you ever see are other people’s romantic escapades.

But it will eventually be forgotten in the clear water.

Without a trace.

He was completely absorbed in his own fantasy.

The passage of time seemed to have lost all connection with that moment.

People and events of the past have become black and white images in the torrent of history.

It has nothing to do with me.

Pack the essentials for survival into the canvas bag.

For example: water, food, and, of course, banknotes, which are essential as a medium of exchange.

I embarked on the journey without purpose or destination.

They will take public buses they’ve never ridden before to go to unfamiliar places.

In just a few tens of minutes, it felt like we had left the city.

From towering commercial streets to bustling farmers’ markets,

Then go to a secluded place with few people.

What I see are repetitive daily chores.

Just like how people eat when they are hungry and drink when they are thirsty,

It happened so naturally, and it presented itself so naturally.

Passing by many old bus stop signs,

Standing at many intersections marked with white zebra crossings,

Hesitating left and right, heading towards a completely new place.

In this city I’ve seen 1460 times,

Each time after the 1460th time will be a completely new world.

Memory will continue to be written.

And then it kept wiping away.

Like a fish with only a seven-second memory.

One new cycle after another,

Regardless of the years, the cycle repeats itself.

Black is black, white is white, and what people say is just what others say.

Packing my bags, I set off alone, without purpose or destination.