今夕是何年

When I rode in the Minhang district, there were always planes flying overhead.

One time I rode to a gym to play shuttles, and then rode home from the gym, with each trip 50 minutes. The ride home was on a small road with no street lights, and there was a section in the middle where I rode over a highway crossing. The plane just flew over, the coming road is dark, the going road is dark, under the bridge car lights far wide, I was as if flashing back to many years ago in the countryside, the unnamed dark road, billboards on both sides, do not know the way to the future years.

These two years every now and then, always miss the old days when things were very quiet. For now, the consciousness in my head is always going back to a few months ago the time in Weifang I myself walking to dinner on the road. That is a calm small city, once it was undergoing a "silent management", of which two weeks is to stay at home every day, eating instant pot, no take-out. At that time I was probably depressed, daily look at the outside of balcony the cramped landscape, everything is silent. But today, looking back, it seems to have passed swiftly. Most of the other times, I walked or biked to shopping malls in the breeze of the early summer nights in Weifang, ate alone, and put kindle on the dining table to read a book. Often no one would connect me all day, I'd get up, do nothing, play the piano, read, go out to eat, breeze touching, take a walk, and talk to friends about meaningless and unimportant things.

At that time I thought, when I stopped being so obsessed with the MLA 2019 live, it means that this peroid of time and this state of mind is over, and now I really don't watch that live that often anymore.

This kind of obsessive retrospection is exactly like last year I missed Nanning for a long time in 2018. Memories filter the fragmentation and lengthiness into a kind of peace, a quiet blandness. In times of turmoil, I can't help but look for this kind of memories where as if everything is under control, and I can't help but think that it would be fine enough to be just able to control where I be, to live in peace.

If you live in peace, you will miss those more joyful memories of the past. For example, I also remembered the moment last year when I missed eating ZhouheiYa with Yue along the street of Shenzhen in 2020. It even became the happiest moment of my 2020. I was in deep love with you (and admittedly still am), while where is this road going to take us to?

Haruki Murakami quit school in his junior and senior years, influenced by the school wave movement, and worked for a few years as a laborer all over Japan, thinking at the time that that was life, so he took seven years to graduate from college. Later, he also became a writer. But he succeeded after all, and if he hadn't, I wouldn't have known the history of Haruki Murakami.

The narrative of success varies a lot, and everyone who lives past 70 or 80 years old will probably come across some turbulent era. The thing is, success is something that can only be traced back, and cannot be anticipated. When you look at the biographies of those who are successful, it's hard to find out why they were the successful guy. They seem, too, to have done a lot of other things that have nothing to do with the final path to victory.

You come into the world with a purpose, and the world always push you to your death without a purpose.

I'm in this fight, this game, trying to write down the obscure death, and in this narrative, trying to at least live a full life, to at least could pick up the pieces of myself, to be able to walk quietly in the shimmering light of the sunset. So I think of the pink sky of Nanning, the shimmering lonely night of Wuhan, and the white cherry blossom of Weifang that no one was appreciating. The roar of the plane will pass, a wave will also pass,this cramped moment is eternal, but eternity also passes.

What year is this, if the flower is blooming again, who am I with?

May life have an end that deserve the past.