Where are we going?

Author: BENJAMIN (Compiler)
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-08-01
Features: Passing through countless alleys across time, through the tears of lovers and the ever-changing figures. Unable to stop, unsure if it’s love or not, driven by the desires constantly erupting within, seeking new desires in new worlds. When I was a reckless child, I was always angry, angry, angry; later, I realized that anger only harms the people I love and achieves nothing. Sincere passion cannot withstand the conspiracy of a vile desire, whether you love or hate. Sincerity never moves people as much as deception. The past's vibrant years and the young man wandering in the vast city, living with countless cats countless times. Shanghai, Tianjin, Beijing, Guangzhou, those lonely streets at night, littered with garbage, the rolling shutters pulling down one after another, me walking alone, livelihood and creation, those streets that lost their daytime hustle and bustle, those loud shouts. The people I once met, Sasha, Xu Laosan, Guli and Wu Qiang; and the girls, Nana, Qiu, along with me; it all felt unreal. The realness that once bloomed in the slums at the heart of those cities and at the corners of the iron staircases, the joyful skies of those teenagers, were all fantasies. Was I born this ruthless? Was my waist born this bent? It’s like a plot from a super-long TV series; though it keeps coming to mind, over and over, I’m confused about which chapter it happened in and no longer moved. I drew and drew, drew and drew, for many years. They say I was just half a step away from becoming a master, yet I couldn’t draw anymore. I’ve been guarding this sun-drenched room, accompanying two cats of unknown origin, for how long now? I’ve forgotten. Did I just come back here, or had I never left? I crouched on the floor crying and crying, crying and crying. My hands trembled as if covered in blood. Those past things were not me. Even today, I still try to put on a charming smile, but true love has long faded. The scattered remnants cannot withstand the pity, in fact, no one loves me. Life is a song that needs to scream, and it cannot stop until it’s sung.