The billboard of the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China with a huge window overlooks the world from a 37-story building. There is sleet falling from above, no cars waiting at traffic lights, and no pedestrians on the street. During the outbreak, the city was silent. I turned on the knob of the battery stove, filled the iron pan with clean water, and after it boiled, I submerged the noodles in the water. The air conditioner kept roaring and breathing uninterruptedly. I was alone in the room for three days. The sound of breathing seemed to be talking to me. I felt that the sound of breathing seemed to fluctuate with pitch, even showing a kind of narrative. In the past two days because of the epidemic, I lived in an apartment in the center of Lujiazui, surviving on the vegetarian noodles delivered from the supermarket next door. After watching the panic for 28 days, the zombie world wars, the night swallows the world. I like the theme of zombies. I have seen almost all the movies on the theme of zombies, even the worst. I have a self-explanatory theory: the existentialist explorer's relationship with the world, and others are hell. Zombie movies are mostly the subject of the world has passed away and survive alone, and the quilt, through the exquisite observation of the external world and the heart. And now the world is the same. Tiny raindrops fall from a high altitude, passing through the layered rendering of neon, and the night sky is illuminated by billboards. They estimate that they will turn off all the lights in advance tonight.
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