It may be that I was often bumpy outside when I was a child, so I am particularly sensitive to the partings between relatives and friends. Sometimes I think that life doesn’t have to be parting. One mu of land and one family can live on, but people are born unsatisfied and put pressure on themselves, that is, parting sadly but willingly.
I cry every time I talk about the gift from Room 7, especially when the little girl and her father walk farther and farther across the iron fence of the prison. At that moment, I am willing to give up everything and ask for reunion. But real life doesn't have such big ups and downs, so parting is silently endured.
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