An old friend of mine turned 18 more than half a month ago. Hindered by the geographical distance in between I could not find a way to contact her, and I forget if I remembered her birthday on that day itself. Well, thinking about the past I cannot help but be nostalgic at how “romantic” I used to be. My gifts to my friends and god-sisters had been consistently poems. And for Pin Er, a poem written on pieces of letter pad with the most elegant pattern, sealed in a carefully chosen envelop, and sent to a school some kilometres away. That's how life used to be, messages being passed through countless letters, with a connection never broken. She is one of the very few people who I regard as friends. Sigh, the days during which we talked so much about HongLou seem just like the letters sent off, travelling to a destination where I cannot trace. Dear Pin Er has grown up. The young girl in my memory still remains but has somehow been transformed. Sometimes I feel that it would be something strangely heart-warming if I had not come here after all. I would be staying in boarding school just like now, but with totally different people. At night I could take a walk on the playground with my friends, and might be gazing at the night sky---- however the sky would not be so mesmerizing as the one here, the one clearer and cooler than touching the marble. I would not be able to see the edges and softness of the clouds, the same way I could not see the direction of my life. But I would still have true friends, friends who are close to my heart. Like pin er, like my god-sister.

And now, have to laugh and talk as if I had no heart.