Firstly, we know nothing about each other except voice and appearance.

We want to get closer, so we contact more. Then we know more, some interests, some experiences, and some other things.

We are willing to be affected by each other.
You do the things I once did, and I do in the way once you did. We enjoy the process. And we begin to have something in common.

We tell each other part of my feelings and part of your feelings, always good. We shared part of happiness, part of sorrow, part of rage.

But sometimes we forget the rules. We can’t help telling you more of my feelings, including those are improper to tell you. So do you. And we begin to conflict, once after another.


So there is cleft between us. Our intimacy is reduced.

You find someone else to release your unhappy, and I find someone another to give out my pressure. Let him hear me and let her console you. Let them to criticize us.

Maybe we heard of ourselves from strangers.

That was not you, and that was not me.

You doubt me, and I suspect you.

The cleft grows wider.

Do those images in others’ mouth really matter?

You have said you are the one who you are and nobody else can change it, rumor will come to an end sooner or later.

But, how are we?

I throw away the carve artwork that was made to send you,

And you think nothing matters include this thrown artwork.


We should be OK.

We should be well.

Similar stories present in different cities between different people, and come to a same end.