When the sun is shining, I like to open the window and let the sunlight pour into the room and living room. The light forms beautiful columns, shining in a colorful way, and the whole house is filled with vitality. It's as if the furniture and walls have come to life, with their own breath.
I also like to open the window on continuous rainy days, as if deliberately leaving a gap for myself. The visible moisture rushes in, carrying a hint of the scent of decaying leaves. In a trance, I can't distinguish the seasons and feel as if it's a spring rain. At this moment, everything is being nourished silently, gathering strength.
This window is Alice's door, taking me to different worlds and times. It can be filled with astonishment, sadness, excitement, and unknowingly changing something.
What have I been busy with this month?
I entered another person's world, watching from their beginning to their end, pausing at a certain moment in their life, moved and resonating.
This is the happiness of being a writer. Even though I am no longer in this world, there will still be someone, years, decades, or even centuries later, who will have the same feelings as him. Rejoicing and shedding tears for that moment.
Sometimes, my hand hesitates or becomes lazy when pushing the window, because I know that the person who will be there after opening the window is no longer the present me.