Give me a hug that satisfies your desires

Author: Shen Wenting
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-10-01
Features: She always picks up herself and those old times from a distant and unreachable place. She elegantly cleans off the lead in the water, leaving her true self behind. About Us: Grid, the home of words. Tribe, our shared haven. Although this is an era where "words escape the grid and the primal walk out of the tribe," we still believe that some beliefs and persistence matter. Planning Positioning: "Grid Tribe" is dedicated to the creation and collective publication of youth bestsellers. Written by young people for young people, it comprehensively records the life experiences and reflections of the younger generation, primarily in the form of essays and novels. Survival Philosophy: People-oriented, literature supreme, words as the source, books as the mission. We advocate: A journey of words, meticulous packaging, sincere interaction—win-win is at "Grid Tribe!" Active minds, unique perspectives, cutting-edge views, extraordinary planning—building your "lead type castle"! I love meeting, love passing by, love the inevitable love. So I settle in the mortal world, exist with peace. Always wandering between words and life. If I stop and look back, those entangled times become an old street. Walk past it, and never look back. And I, smile—then, settle a home in my heart. In the home hangs a clock named "Chasing Memories," ticking tick-tick. The sound of water droplets fades. I sit on the steps in front of the door; waiting for love. In the Unfading, the last inch of awakening remains. An ordinary little woman, ten years, one day, without thought, nor self-measurement. If I start missing someone, I think I am already in love; if this longing haunts me day and night, then I know I don’t want to leave. I always believe in the existence of a sixth sense—not in a particular person, but in the perception of anyone with a. As long as one can, anyone can attain it. It’s like a box filled with many maps—flipping through will always lead to a way out, otherwise, it remains dusty. I am someone who is willing to sweep the dust away. A pair of thumbs and a pair of index fingers easily form a mirror opening. The world is encircled within the square frame, viewed through the round hole deep inside. I don’t speak, and you won’t know the content recorded. Not knowing is also a form of happiness. Forgetting is an art, with irreversible rules. One must forget love first, then forget the person, so it’s cleaner and more decisive. Without the separation of love, there’s only a little sadness, but no physical or emotional harm. If one accidentally reverses the order, forgetting love before letting go of the person, the result is like an unsuccessful surgery—countless pains follow, endless and relentless. Love after love, the deeper one falls, the more numb one becomes, ultimately leading to lovelessness.