Unfortunately, this is just an imaginary home.
Home is a refuge, a place to heal, a place to recuperate, a place where the real self only exists …
However, this is just an imaginary home.
In fact, home is a battlefield, a place of suffering and a place to escape.
When home was redefined, when I was caught off guard, I stopped.
Resentment, regret, self-loathing, self-abandonment, nausea, despair …
Haze enveloped the sky, dripping, potholes, foggy, cold rain dripping and splashing, ripples swinging open, long and long …
I want a home, a place in my imagination. I don't want a home, a real place.
Am I not good enough? Am I not worthy of love? Or is love just a comfort made up by people? Pure desire?
Why did Nu Wa make people? Maybe it's just because life is so boring. Just pinch people out and watch the play at will! Man is just a doll of God.