by Liu Qinghui
An office space, it is an illusion that accompanies every day, coming quietly like morning dew, looming on the early morning horizon of every overtime work. It fades like a tide. My childhood memories include the mottled concrete walls, the branches extending from the corners, and the staggered steps... This is my imaginary memory. He is full of power like a dark horse, and he keeps coming up in his mind. Dark horse, I hope to be like it, with great wisdom, and the courage to subvert. Maybe everything has a meaning from him.