I always know nothing. I stare at the printed words, trying to imagine who they were. How old, where they came from, how the disaster unfolded, what went wrong, how they were mourned, whether it could happen again. Yet still, I know nothing. Standing downstairs, I strain to peer into the Chinese characters, and at last I see: they are me. Then a fire sweeps through, burning my memories to ash, and once more, I know nothing.
#It's just an experienceLast modified on 2023-04-17