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Back home, everything was as different as I expected. What I saw with my child’s eyes, even hasn’t changed a bit, are now doomed different in my 26 year old eyes. The place that once made all my happiness and memory happen can no longer trigger the resonance with my heart. I don’t talk as much, because I don’t know what to say.

Father’s tomb was forced to move to a new cemetery, together with his quiet neighbors, due to the local government taking back the land. It was said that the new cemetery would be much bigger and better, but since everything was still under construction, I couldn't feel the sense of belonging and destiny, somehow I knew father didn’t like the place; we always share the same taste.

National holiday brought some jollification to the cemetery, with groups and groups of people like me who could only come home during holidays coming to finish the last step of moving, bringing with them fruits, flowers, paper money, firework… At one time the cemetery that should’ve been sad and solemn gave me a delusion of joy and festival. Smokes rising slowly in front of tombstones fuzzed people’s faces, blurred their expression.

Burning a few paper money inside the white marble hole, putting a coin each at the four corners and the right middle, placing father’s ashes box gently down slightly towards the southeast, laying down the marble lid, sealing it with cement, again I isolated father from the sun, the beloved, and the world.

Mother told me to knee down and pray for father’s blessings, I did so, but couldn’t say anything. For I believed the happiness I want, was as clear to him as to me, I believed what he could give me, would be given without any slight withholding.

It was a nice and clear day, the sun hid behind white running clouds; winds with sweet smell of grass danced across reed clusters beside the cemetery, bringing to my ears their lonely singings, blowing my naughty hair to the face. Putting back on my sunglass, blocking the glaring sunshine, rustling wind, and ashes of paper money weltering in the air, I quietly turn and left. It was not farewell, we knew.

Had a satisfying lunch at Aunt’s house. Most of the time, Life to me is independent casual and indifferent, stuffing my stomach with whatever comes handy just like finishing an everyday task. Therefore with lots of dishes that looked colorful and nutritious in front I truthfully felt good to be home, and felt the irreversible danger of gaining weight coming closer and closer. At the table people talked about old and new stories of relatives and friends, who and who got married, who and who got divorced, who died, who had a baby… those names mentioned sounded more and more strange, once again I sensed the power of time and distance.

After a short chat with mum, I said good night, went to my room and lied on my chest on bed, started writing my diary. Always habitually isolate myself, from the family, from friends, even from self, rather going on the rampage inside my head. Pulling the curtain, shutting out the dark night, silvery moon, and blinking stars with the thick pink. Vaguely I could hear the sound of fireworks blossoming in the sky. As a child whenever there was fireworks I would always excitedly run into the yard, eyes wild open towards the sky, watching those blooming amorous flowers. Yet now I know no matter how beautiful they are, after bursting, when they become nothing but some ugly black residue, nobody will give them a second glance, therefore they are sad things after all, their beauty is futile lie. I no longer watch them.

Leaning on the bar of the balcony, watching stars shining or hiding behind moving dark clouds, I could see some faint dark dots on the silvery new moon. Thinking about the crazy scarlet full moon of the other day, I don’t know where he is.