On the cracked streets of the city that never sleeps, my steps tinkle—the rhythm is not broken. The dim sky draws a scenario, I am the main character in a stereo life.

Coffee smoke and the sound of horns become songs, shabby books in a backpack of longing. Words fly like wild birds, I catch one, it becomes my wild poem.

‎Stars are not only in the high sky, sometimes they are in the eyes of those who dare to dream.

That’s spice, not a curse, a true winner knows how to laugh under pressure.

‎It’s not about how fast you arrive, but how hard your heart beats at every turn.

Life is not a sprint race, it’s a freestyle marathon, as long as you’re still alive, never let go.Night is not the end, but a dark canvas, where a small light can slap the darkness.

I’m not perfect, just a brave version, keep walking, even though the world is sometimes unfriendly today.