真水无香

昔陶潜常抚无弦琴 孰云无人解听
Whatever I do, it’s to feel my existence




Think of a beach enveloped in mist waiting to be discovered;
Think of a wild horse fighting to be ridden;
Think of a glass of wine over a quiet conversation;
Think of standing at a cliff edge with only pair of wings;
Think of capturing the moment of thoughts under the cozy green shade;
Think of moving bodies to upbeat urban music;
Think of rollercoaster at the circus;
Think of a soaring eagle focusing on his prey;
Think of the essence of water that fits into any shape of container;
Think of me…

I hate myself missing you or trying to think how you would think or say about things. I hate I have a such strong urge to call you, wanting to talk to you, knowing that you might have chose to forgot me.

I wish to see you. May I see you.

I feel delicate when I think of you.