The plane passed the date line. I felt like everything was back to yesterday.
Time is just a blurry definition that may never exist.
But all the details have changed.
Ears hurt because of the distance between air and ground.
The pictures that belong to yesterday still remain in the brain, passing by like wind.





I miss the evenings of Beijing, especially in the sunny days.
Wondering around, there were cheminies in distant places.
School boys jogging around a playground in a line.
National flags under sunshine.
Bare poplar trees.
Little bars along the streets.
Quiet singers with guitars.


Sometimes, certian words are not precious anymore because they are said too often.
Like love.
I always believe that great love can't be expressed with words.
or It is not deep enough.
Look back, everything is like an illusion.
Love the shadow of myself.
Love to be needed and accepted.
Love the desire to be understood.





I know about the world--if the world makes any sense at all,
I expected too much,
thought too much,
dreamed too much---
but I never really fell in love with it.
I just want to look for a permenant position for myself.
Live, to live among people.
Everytime when I wake up to face the sorrow of an empty morning,
and become lost and panic-stricken again,
I know it's time for me to do something.



The surface of the ocean is covered with dim white moon light.
I look at the ocean and get lost in thought.



Eason's song still resonates in my ears.
The last night in Cheng du before I came back to U.S., a friend sang it in a small quiet bar.
All the emotions got released along with the words
One of the best ways to express yourself is to sing your heart out.
like no one is around.