The concept of “Self” is an incredibly fragile one, resembling a wool-soft slime with a hint of vitality. Just like a newborn, it blinks curiously at the world around and can easily be scared by the terrible things it sees, causing it to retreat back into the safety of the grass.
“You” is more fluid but some believe it to be solid. While there are many of “you” in the wild, I struggle to recall their appearance.
As for “others”, they can be intimidating beings, perhaps, their existence may be questionable; perhaps their significance is uncertain.
I find myself envious of the wild grasses that grow fiercely, rooting themselves deeply into the ground and reaching upwards towards the sky. Yet, I long for the garden, which shelters me from the harshness of the truth and provides me with meticulous care, allowing me to rely on it for comfort.
Mama, why do you tell me I'm strong when I feel so fragile? Papa, what does it mean to love someone silently and have a soft heart?
Flowers and plants: flexible, like the true heart of people; fragile, like the true heart of people; rough, like the true heart of people. I looked at the people passing by, all kinds of people, but I couldn't see their real appearance. I gaze upon the greenery around me, longing for the true shape of a human.
野外的花园
“我”是一个极其脆弱的东西，非常柔软，像是史莱姆一样的羊毛毡。但又是具有一些生命力的，刚出生的，好奇地眨着眼，看到了可怖的东西，害怕了，就钻回草里去。
“你”是一个流动的东西，有些人说“你”本身是固体，野外有好多“你”，但都记不清样子了。
还有“他们”是可怕的存在，也许“他们”可能并不存在，也许“他们”并不重要。
所以，我羡慕野外的草，野蛮生长，深深扎根，向天空滋长。但我又渴望着花园，为我遮风挡雨，细致入微地照顾，让我依靠。
妈妈啊，为什么我如此脆弱，可你又说我坚强；爸爸啊，沉默的爱到底是什么滋味，柔软的心到底是什么模样。
花花草草：柔韧啊，好像人的真心一样；脆弱啊，好像人的真心一样；粗犷啊，好像人的真心一样。我望着过往的人们，形形色色，看不清真的模样。我看着绿色的地方，想要变成和人一样。
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