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To Us Who Are Made Up, Part Two


IllustrationCOLN
Translation:Unk


Pure joy is jubilant, yet sad backstory will make its own color murky. However, there will be something fresh if we focus on the "JOY" itself, devoting our emotions digging into it berserk. We remind us subjectively that things always exist before receiving any attention; as the member of the cosmos, you need to comprehend the smallness of yourself.

Nevertheless, we're human beings, observing this whole cosmos with life and perspective of humanity. This is the fun only belongs to us, no matter how speechless the cosmos is. Not long ago I played the game "Journey" by accident, which profoundly helps me to recognize something unsure. This game makes me feel that life is a trip, and homecoming is the final rest. In recent I ultimately realize that, in the short period of time I've experienced, the ones I hardly forget is every kind of leaving. With the fading of something familiar or not behind the curtain of life, I'm following through the dark alley of backstage, filled with tons of trivial remembrances, waking slowly toward the unknown.

In the end, with the things we left, whose legend will become the authorized history or pseudohistory? Everything is the material of life to me though. It is not that easy to block people from collecting, cogitating and creating. Aren't we all enjoying forming the satisfying shape with the materials we have collected everywhere?

Forming a satisfying self, for instance.

In fact, this is quite amazing to see the past self with emotions coming up. Instead of dividing each self from different dimensions, we always have so much time to explain ourselves or the reason of "why now?" Every collected past seems like a pile of limitless documents in the house, and all of a sudden we just realize that every air we breathe in has been examined and prepared. Every moment we live on the immediateness of collected history.

Past has weighted mysteriously before us seeing how far the future goes.


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