Just now I found a mysterious record in old books: the cicada flying over the elbow has chanted the sincere wish for peace. It’s really a tiny but touching surprise in life.
When the breeze gets chilly, the tea in the cup goes anti-clockwise, the river bottom cracks, I take a deep breath, it’s a quiet chill that wraps around.
[I estimate the sunny weekend you’ve been eagerly expecting will be full of small warm moments, and the best time of life is when you’re ready to grow.]