Thanks to the destiny, I can live a simple life without hard earning. Yet, it is far from surprise. After experiencing bed-wetting, first steps, book reading and mind wondering, my skin which is filled with desires stopped growing. Even now my sense to the world is still as indistinct as it was in my childhood. As I have always imaged, the real world must be fanciful and dazzling, and the sparkling lights of it could even stab into my eyes like hurtling darts if I tried to get closer. This thought makes me so unspeakably uncomfortable that the things I can do are to peep from far while use my imagination to make up the world that I dare not to stare at and might never be able to see clearly. Admittedly, nothing is bright or dark as my thinking makes it so.

The stories of mine are too boring to be mentioned or recorded, only except for the bling bling things I’ve ever seen and the fickleness behind them.