我最早的记忆是风。绿光与金色交错，在我头顶轻轻摇曳。忽然——有看不见的东西拂过脸颊。不是母亲的手，而是更轻，更无处不在，连同肌肤与心灵一同颤动。从那一刻起，我明白，世界进入了我，而我也进入了世界。

My first memory is of the wind. Green light, cut through with gold, swayed above me as I lay in a stroller. Then—something unseen brushed my cheek. Not my mother’s hand, but gentler, everywhere, stirring both skin and soul. From that moment, I knew the world had entered me, and I had entered the world.

其实我没有移动，树们也一直站在原地，听到的也是没听到的

In truth, I have not moved, nor have the trees left their place. What I heard was also what I did not hear.

连着下了几天的雨，信江河的水没过了台阶。我拿起胶片相机，带妹妹去公园玩。透过取景器看到妹妹在阳光下摆动着身体，按下快门，心里无比满足——直到发现相机里根本没有胶卷。所有那些完美的瞬间，都只存在于一声声快门的咔擦声中，随着每一次想象的拍摄消失。

It had been raining for days. The waters of the Xin River had risen past the steps. I picked up my film camera and took my younger sister to the park. Through the viewfinder, I watched her move in the sunlight, pressing the shutter with quiet satisfaction—until I discovered the camera held no roll at all. All those perfect moments existed only in the sound of the clicks, disappearing with each imagined frame.

我一会儿往里，一会儿往外，我不在云端，也不在地上。我在飘忽不定的半空，永远不知所措，永远不知归处。

Now drifting inward, then outward again—I am neither on the clouds, nor on the ground. I hover in the uncertain air, forever unmoored, forever homeless.

独自一人为我，众声喧哗无我。欲说未说是我，说出口的非我。戛然而止，我。

A poetic reflection on the nature of self and identity, exploring the boundaries between being and non-being, silence and expression.

今天的晚餐蚕食着过去的回忆，参宿三和海洋生长在我的心脏上。于是身体是海浪的泡沫，呼吸然后停止，生命具有节奏。

Tonight's dinner devours the memories of yesterday. Betelgeuse and the sea take root in my heart. And so, my body—a shimmer of wave-born foam, breathing then falling still—life in rhythm.