August is not yet at its end

Author: Anni
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Features: In Anni's writing, the city—this space that has long been absent from contemporary Chinese literature and constantly fictionalized—emerges silently. In Anni's portrayal, it is both an eternal wandering jungle of modernity and the sole belonging of the homeless. I am moved by the and in Anni's words. There, life is like a fragile string, individuals like drifting leaves, but except for the characters in her writing, except for this fragile life and personal identity, there is no dependence, no belonging, and amidst it flickers a vibrant blood-red hue in the dying embers. Like a colorful and full that appears against a background of extreme darkness and hidden threat, it is enchanting, painful, and fierce. A floating and sinking at the moment of falling into and waking from a dream—those are melancholic yet beautiful words, some fierce and tragic love stories. About a young woman in a white cotton dress, barefoot in sneakers, a "Lin" without the burden of manhood. About heartbreaks not ended by death, about works that crack open in numbness, about clarity and cold detachment in indulgence and self-abandonment.