In the United States, as the sun goes down, I sit on a crumbling old river pier and look up at the sky above New Jersey, imagining vast swathes of wilderness rising up and down the land to the west coast. There is no end to the road, and people indulge their imaginations on this endless road. In Ai Zehua, I finally know that Chang Geng Star will hang low in the sky, and the dim light will sprinkle on the prairie, but this is only before the night has completely come, when the night comes, it envelopes the earth, paints black and wraps the river. The mountains hide the coast, and no one, no one can predict who will be in the future, only that we will all grow old bleakly, I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of old Dean Moriarty , the father we've never met, I think of Dean Moriarty, I think of Dean Moriarty
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