Mirrormask

When I woke up in the morning and saw sunlight slanting through the curtain, I knew it was time for a break. So I’m having a whole week off.

I always do things on a whim. Don’t want to complicate my life with plans and changes, just as I never entangle my neck or wrists with those girlish bling-blings.

That summer on my way home after work, I caught sight of a guy in a swanky car at the crossing of Guanghua Rd, and then the following weekend I was already in the driving school. I wish I could have more such whims. But few things interest me; few people attract my attention. I shrug and say “sorry, I’m not interested” too often.

Of course I can’t say it aloud; there’s a mask I’m wearing. Writing is like a mirror, through which I can see myself clearly.