Journals2
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Monologue forest
2 min read
I went into the forest to hold a tree and cry.
Like a wronged child.
Unexpectedly, I got warmth here.
One warm message after another touched me, just like Pinocchio met the fairy.
Thank you.
My parents come from ordinary factories.
It was painting that grew up with me alone.
Because there are no rich relatives or famous teachers.
It's so hard for the children of the workers to become painters.
There are tens of millions of poor painters like me in China.
And epilepsy,
What does epilepsy look like?
Like a snail, it climbs over the hot desert.
Every night I think of Van Gogh, who was on the verge of death after being shot.
Every minute, every second,
The droplets of time, the molecules of life, have drifted away bit by bit.
I love my left hand, which is used for drawing.
I love my right hand, which is used to play the piano.
I love Jane Austen, who lives under the eaves all her life.
There are no storms.
Just a little bit of life,
But they have all become world famous works.
There is a sparrow outside the window.
Are you the messenger from heaven?
Winter is too long. I forget how flowers look.
Sparrow, tell the goddess of spring,
Please come back soon.
Like a wronged child.
Unexpectedly, I got warmth here.
One warm message after another touched me, just like Pinocchio met the fairy.
Thank you.
My parents come from ordinary factories.
It was painting that grew up with me alone.
Because there are no rich relatives or famous teachers.
It's so hard for the children of the workers to become painters.
There are tens of millions of poor painters like me in China.
And epilepsy,
What does epilepsy look like?
Like a snail, it climbs over the hot desert.
Every night I think of Van Gogh, who was on the verge of death after being shot.
Every minute, every second,
The droplets of time, the molecules of life, have drifted away bit by bit.
I love my left hand, which is used for drawing.
I love my right hand, which is used to play the piano.
I love Jane Austen, who lives under the eaves all her life.
There are no storms.
Just a little bit of life,
But they have all become world famous works.
There is a sparrow outside the window.
Are you the messenger from heaven?
Winter is too long. I forget how flowers look.
Sparrow, tell the goddess of spring,
Please come back soon.
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still more
1 min read
Live or die?
I'm in great pain today.
Epilepsy, epilepsy, epilepsy,
It has been more than forty years.
Of course,
And my dear terrible depression.
My mother scolded me.
Suddenly I felt that there was no last resort.
My painting here is nothing, isn't it?
Collaborative galleries, illustration associations
They all think I'm worthless.
I feel like I'm in the middle of death.
I want to laugh.
I think my way is gone.
I'm in great pain today.
Epilepsy, epilepsy, epilepsy,
It has been more than forty years.
Of course,
And my dear terrible depression.
My mother scolded me.
Suddenly I felt that there was no last resort.
My painting here is nothing, isn't it?
Collaborative galleries, illustration associations
They all think I'm worthless.
I feel like I'm in the middle of death.
I want to laugh.
I think my way is gone.
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