Afterglow

Old Xiang had come to understand: time has always been held in the hands of the past. The present and the future merely depend upon it; as derivative things, they inherently lack independent reality and meaning.

Only the past, inevitably formed through the passage of time, can refine the true content of every minute and every second of this moment, and only it can give direction to a future that may or may not exist.

Old Xiang took a sip of wine. A cold, clear sensation spread from his chest through his whole body, and he could not help letting out a breath of turbid air. This was a foreign shore; the surging waves beat ceaselessly against the rocks. The sound of the waves was steady yet unrestrained, and in this place of refuge in a foreign land he felt, for an instant, as if he had returned to the harbor of his youth.

Past time gathered into a mist, pulling Old Xiang into a whirlpool of memories. He thought of his hometown, and of those special people in his life. He thought of the beautiful days when he had pursued true love in that azure sea… Gradually, time had drifted away with the sound of the waves, and the lingering flavor of tobacco and wine faded too.

He wandered aimlessly, watching the endless waves of the sea. Although everything around him was endless natural beauty, he could not feel happiness or peace. The Old Xiang of now was like a displaced vulture, helplessly keeping watch over this world where white foam and drifting sand entangle.