Since the sight of the copper tag, it appears the randomly covered cloth on the roof survived from the last freezing winter. The water tank on this roof is totally deformed with a crack and some undetectable holes holding touching rusts.
The continuous scorching temperature in this summer is withering leaves. The land is hard like the rock. Except the flowing water, mixed with the mud, is brown like coffee that everything is in motionlessness. The sky is so empty without a piece of cloud. How come the endless days without rains not dry up the water? Some channels are sun-cracking like floor tiles. The bloody centipedes and mosquitoes are lying beneath. They cannot fly and all the living things with wings are vanishing from this land. Some flowers were miraculously blossoming in vain. The dying caterpillar is almost reaching to these palely dried flowers, while hoping the dream maybe could come true.
Darkness comes in silence. It inflexibly fills all the holes and cracks. A hearsay goes that something is happening when everything is invisible. Of courses something happened, and it indeed happened. A totally unchanged new day is coming in the repetition with impeccable faiths. No surprises, bugs are there in their belonging spaces even we don’t need to look for them. The invisible sweetness of the bloody smell is wandering in the breath, precisely blended with everything on the ground by the reckless air. The remains of millipedes were successively fractured without any existence of their feet that the sign of life cannot be carried away. Except these three gloating beehives, it’s so wise that they absorb on bush branches like seeds without any expansion. The classic of survival has not given up the rebirth. A strong presentiment comes that no matter how hard they tried, both of disciples and heretics will be defeated by the time.