Sometimes, I just want to wander aimlessly, stopping and starting without purpose.
In London, Nanjing, Sydney— through the silence of empty parks, along the desolate shorelines— I walk alone, often carrying a quiet sorrow while doing something meant to bring joy.
Strolling by myself, lost in thought, I hesitate to begin anything, for before something begins, it exists in the realm of endless possibilities.
Yet, once I see its deeper reality, I can’t help but wonder— why is the world never as we imagined?
The world I see is steeped in suffering. And perhaps, it is precisely because of this that joy exists at all.