text/Chuxi Nuanwen Photo/Chuxi Nuanwen
I know the wind. On the day you arrived, it blows very gently, caressing my face.
I know the rain. On the day you left, it fell in a hurry, slapped my blurry vision.
I know every road I have walked with you. They often break into my dreams, replicating them in the dreams, replicating the moments of holding hands.
At this moment, I am thousands of miles away from you. I want to give it to you with the wind at hand, the fragrance of flowers and the harvest of autumn.
I miss home, I don’t know the wind here, I don’t know the sunshine here, and I don’t know the trace of you here.
I have had to drink some wine recently, but I don’t like drinking because there is bitterness in the wine, and every day between me and you is very sweet.
They said that the breakfast in the hotel is very good. On the first day, I also felt the same, including milk, eggs, fried rice, eggs, buns, steamed buns, noodles, corn...
It’s a pity that those repetitions without emotions were quickly tired, tired, I want to go back to the three meals a day with you, repeating our daily life.
Today, I wrote this pile of unknown words in the midst of my busy schedule. The voice in my heart is probably the most true among these clouds.
