Written at Dawn

Author Yi Ming (10Level International Economics and w88 College)

I embraced the beginning of this city.­

A ray of morning light has such magic power, making the city that has slept all night become as delicate as a newborn baby. The weight of history cannot take away this repeated start. On the contrary, at this moment, we can look back at the dawn here so many years ago.­

People at that time may have had the same moment of being touched as we did. Maybe it was this moment that completed the connection between our hearts.­

I want to listen to the sound of a drop of dew falling on the top of the grass. I want to touch a young leaf on the top of a tall tree that is blown by the breeze. I want to just stare at the big bird returning from hunting and lovingly putting breakfast into the bird's baby's mouth. I want to listen to the sound of dove whistles in the early morning, the rhythm of blue and white.­

Suddenly I remembered the dawn in the countryside. When I was a kid, I always went to live in the countryside for a few weeks every year. Morning comes very early in the countryside. Whenever I am still sleeping, I can vaguely hear the sound of firewood peeling off in the kitchen, the hens in the yard cooing for food, and the barking of the dogs guarding the yard. At this time, a cat may suddenly jump up to the kang, its fluffy tail brushing against your cheek. When you open your eyes and want to hug it, it will jump off the kang so quickly and slip through the slightly opened door. When you finished washing, you accidentally glanced at the kang, and you saw the cat lying peacefully on the head of the kang, eyes half-closed, looking very comfortable, because it was warm there.­

The morning in the countryside is clear and hazy, with a little chill in the air, which is the best sobering agent. Looking at the changing colors of the sky, I always want to smile. The sky there is so blue that it seems to surround you and make you forget all your worries. Everything that is new is also a new self, with an urge to do something and inexhaustible power.­

“Chu, the beginning of tailoring”, what a poetic and vivid explanation. Hold a pair of scissors with a wisp of morning wind, and listen to the tearing sound of the cloth when the scissors are used. Each stitch and one stitch make up the skirt fluttering in the breeze. It does not have the shock of Pangu opening up the world, nor the magnificence of Creation. What it has is just the peace and beauty in the heart at that faint moment. It is enough to have this carefree thing. Keep this kind of love, soak it in the needle and thread, sew into the warp and weft of this clothes, and pass it on silently through this skin-to-skin contact.

We are tailoring our lives.

With a little laziness, we have gone through so many reincarnations of dawn and dawn, and we will witness how many similar but different dawns. Maybe in the city, maybe at the seaside, maybe in the woods listening to the sound of the waves they play. No matter where I am, I will feel you. When I gaze at the newborn sun, I will remember our vigorous hopes and dreams. At this dawn, we will join hands and set off together.­