It was also a winter when I turned on the air conditioner and watched a movie that was even harder to swallow than a cookie while eating a damp cookie. Layers of black and white light and shadow passed by, and the illusion and glitz of the past also shrouded me layer by layer.
Love does not need to be about the body, you taught me, but you forgot.
I was drowsy in the rambled lines, and the stagnant group performers created an absurd touch. I remember you, you in the 20th century. I forget you, you in the early autumn of Beijing. You're sitting beautifully in the wind wearing grey contact lenses, and you're wearing jingle bells around you in a super-short skirt.
You forgot all about it, and I rambled to stay in this land you wouldn't notice.
I dream of you, white marble column. Green vines. You lazily lean against the wall and curl your hair like a creeper. I think I don't want to be left alone in my memories anymore. Sometimes memories are just an open space, you can choose to walk in or walk out.
Goodbye, hippo girl. Thank you for making me realize how powerful and forbidding hippos are. But when your innocent eyes looked at me, I realized that you never understood me. Taking a deep breath, I walked out of the open space.
The movie is over. FIN…THE END out of subtitles to go to the toilet, and so on.
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