When the sun is shining, I like to push open the window, letting the sunlight pour into the room and living room, forming beautiful light columns. The colorful light shines in, and the whole house is filled with vitality. It's as if the furniture and walls have come alive, with a sense of life.
I also like to open the window on continuous rainy days, as if deliberately leaving a gap in my heart. The visible moisture flows in, carrying a hint of the scent of decaying leaves. In a daze, it's hard to distinguish the seasons, feeling like a spring rain, nourishing everything silently, gathering strength.
This window is like Alice's door, showing me different worlds and times. It can be filled with wonder, sadness, excitement, unknowingly changing something.
What have I been busy with this month?
I entered another person's world, watching from their beginning to their end, pausing at a moment in their life, moved and resonating.
This is the happiness of being a writer, even though they are no longer in this world, years, decades, centuries later, there will still be someone who shares the same feelings. Joyful and tearful for that moment.
Sometimes, my hand hesitates or is lazy to push the window, because I know that the person who opens the window is no longer the same as the present me.