The deep autumn rain feels colder and wetter when it washes down leaves and brings the City of Beijing into early winter. Yet the fan-shaped Gingko leaves are showing their most vibrant colour, the very scene that stayed the same as 20 years ago, when I left the city for a young woman's adventures.
One normally doesn't get the feeling of "things are the same and people no more" in the ever-changing Beijing nowadays, but when the beautiful Gingko leaves fell, dancing in the air before landing in front of my walking feet this morning, my heart was tightly gripped by such a feeling - a cold, wet and thick tenderness. There may be some knots made along the long thread of life. At these knots, an old time dies and a new one takes over. Aren't these Gingko leaves flying through the knots, through the dead times into my living days?