Don’t panic and rush through every day

The soil can still germinate. I’m stronger than dirt, I’m not dead yet, I can still feel the daily sparkle, from international events, to small things in life, to a flower, to a ray of sunshine.
The flash of crossing in the dream brings me to a farther place, or I have already passed it and have not recognized it; or I have not arrived yet.
The moon is shining brightly in Taichung tonight, and the moonlight penetrates into my face. I can’t stop looking at this face in the mirror, and I can’t get enough of it.
This is my face. It’s not a pretty face.
But it is very soft, softer than the moonlight.

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When you are sick, as long as your breath is there and your mind is still clear, you must tell yourself: I can do it, and work hard!
Yes, I am seriously ill.
Most of the time it is very weak, the blood vessels at the end of the lower limbs will burst, and the white legs will become female. The heartbeat does not need to meet the person you love, that is, “big deer bumping into each other”.
Even though I often lie in bed, inhale oxygen, and put oxygen concentrators in both nostrils, I look like a dying person in a nursing home; but I still want to love, especially love life, and I have to take responsibility for my daily happiness.
A light of fire in the dark night can always bring me some warmth, and maybe it can also trigger the raging fire in my heart, and explain our chaotic world.
I learned not to rush on my way. I was really tired, so I just took a rest, drained the excess water from my body, and lived every “today” without stopping at my own pace.
In particular, I found the characteristics of my illness, the more focused I was, although it would inevitably bring a little bit of exhaustion afterwards, I wrote all the ebb and flow of the world; when I finished the manuscript, the joy hidden in my heart was indescribable.
This is not what I, who was still a minor illness in the past, can understand. In the past, I never let myself go, and I rarely praised myself.
Now, I just wish to write a book on the theme of “Globalization Reversal”. After writing an article, I finish it in one go, 2,100 words in two hours, and 3,400 words in three hours. My pituitary gland function is dead. It does not secrete the adenoid that should survive; but it does not know from which blockchain to secrete the “self-boasting” hormone.
The soil can still germinate. I’m stronger than dirt, I’m not dead yet, I can still feel the daily sparkle, from international events, to small things in life, to a flower, to a ray of sunshine.
The flash of crossing in the dream brings me to a farther place, or I have already passed it and have not recognized it; or I have not arrived yet.
The moon is shining brightly in Taichung tonight, and the moonlight penetrates into my face. I can’t stop looking at this face in the mirror, and I can’t get enough of it.
This is my face. It’s not a pretty face.
But it is very soft, softer than the moonlight.

(This article is excerpted from “Good Night, My Life” by Chen Wenqian, provided by Times Publishing)

further reading

Wartime Diary of a Ukrainian Mother: A Profile Written on Her Arm

On New Year’s Eve, ancestor worship and Shixiangcai celebrate the New Year with gourmet writer Han Liangyi

Long Yingtai: Take your time, kid

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