I don’t have seen the autumn day for ten years. In the autumn day of southward, I always been recalled the bulrush of Joyous Pavilion, the willow of the Diaoyutai, insects’ sounds of the Western Hills, the moon of the Jade Spring, the bell’s tolling of the Tanzhe Temple. Although you don’t get out ,you can watch the blue sky and hear the sound of homing pigeon frying by renting a cabin in capital to live sitting in the yard with a pot of tea in the morning. I count the line of
sunshine revealing through the sophora japonica’s branches or face to the blue morning glories what is like the horn on the fragmentary wall that make me feel the pure and simple of autumn.