Luyuan Qiu

I dreamt of her turning into a stone, and I buried it beneath a small mound in the rural countryside before driving away. I tossed and turned in regret, but eventually turned back around to retrieve it. I remember clearly where it was buried, remembering it forever.

The collision and entanglement create a small water column at this very moment, deviating from the convergence of soul and body. Persistent, colorful reflections, contemplating, desire to break free from the gentle, private realm. They emerge within the echoing sound.

I will always miss my hometown.Although it leaves only memories of youth and fear of death for me.I had the impression that I had never seen a similar scene with my own eyes. There are snacks and sweets in the market, there are buyers who cut meat and sell meat, and there are game consoles and cartoons. Finger dolls tell the story of death. Its fragments are crystal clear yet fleeting.