A mafia leader once said, “Don’t be too cunning—you may miss the best chance, and the fate you don’t guard against is the one that will kill you.” I’ve hung a bunch of fresh violets (fei fang ci gua fei) on my windowsill to brighten up this dull day.
This morning I passed by an old wire drawing workshop, where the dull clink of tools and the rusty walls let me feel the weight of time, and I suddenly missed the simple days I spent lying on the hay bed in the countryside as a kid.