原來，
夜已盡。
原來，
我喜歡
一個人。

when we left
what we left

疑是地上窗。

我想起了這個故事。

bon soirée
mon chérie 
tu es toujours ma vie

雨，聽不見
路慢慢，行

竹杖
破鞋

走了吧
不怕

不過一場雨
不過一生

風起
酒醒

冷，迎
回，歸

風
雨
晴
也無

happy father yesterday

望

when i started,

then, a hundred miles.

then, a hundred miles.

then a hundred miles.

then, a hundred miles.

then,

how many years?
i just been there
again.

i thought it was over
over the sky. but still, i can see it
hanging around,
over and over.

still. it's just one second shifted in this world.

十八年後。

at last, i can hear your voice.

goodbye england's roads.

on the other day, i met t.s. eliot's waste land.

i stir my memory and desire.
the dust is coming over me, such an unreal city.
i can't see that crowd flowed over london bridge.
what's left, my red shadow in silence.

on the continent, the heart of light is looking at me.
i see.

before the moon comes,
i saw the sun of paris hanging over hong kong,
the sky above hong kong.

are you there?
how are you there?

i'm not here.
i never be here.