I remember that two years ago, I took a midnight bus to the Bund to see the Huangpu River at three in the morning, even though I had actually been there many times during the day. That may be the least crowded moment, but there were still sporadic people were jogging.
The station of the transfer bus was very cold and only designated drivers still showed up at that time, pulling the folding scooter and waiting beside me in silence.
A cat looked at me from a distance for a long while, and finally ran away.
I watched the floor-to-ceiling windows of the closed shopping mall reflect it running away. It was probably warm enough inside, but I don’t know where it ran to spend the winter that day.
I went to Lawson and bought two hazelnut chocolates, which seemed to be the only thing I could eat in a day and a half.
I lost my way on South Tibet Road, then stopped at South Henan Road. On the way, I saw young people talking and laughing together in twos and threes at the entrance of nightclubs.
I don’t know what I went to see that day, or where I wanted to go.
Probably, I just wanted to see the lights above the Huangpu River, and there was no one above the lights.
My memory is too clear, with almost everything, every moment in my life. Some people say it’s a talent but I often feel it a curse. I’m occupied by time. The ghosts of history appoint me as their vessel; they decided the way I look at this world and all humankind. it’s always not a pleasing thing, because there’s too much pain. The weight of time is too heavy. All my memory seems to be enveloped in a filter of emotions and makes my heart ache slightly every time. I cannot “move forward” when flashbacks of my life pieces occur to me over and over again.
They command me to feel, and I do, so I ache, struggle, and lose my body temperature gradually.