The view from (almost) fullway down

The human mind is fascinating, for its tendency to reminisce about the beginning and ending, yet leaves the middle part blurry. From there it opens up a one-way wormhole that connects your present mind to your past mind, allowing you to peek through your fleeting past via a tunneled pathway, away from the blurry afterimage of ordinarity.

Venturing in this mental hallway often leaves the travellers feeling hiraeth, a Welsh word that captures the bittersweet sentiment of longing for a destination that can never be visited, for they are simply speculating a version of themself in a particular period of time that can never be re-experienced. I got this feeling when I visited campus for my last lecture, the self-retracting chair with blue nylon, the slightly moldy smell of the classroom and the faces that I would never meet again. As the class ended, the wooden door I pushed open felt exceptionally lightweighted, almost feather-like, the door hinges squeaked as I walked away. A young man was waiting outside with his notebook in one arm, perhaps for the next lecture, he was just like me.

Onto the Central Avenue, there stood CUHK’s school emblem, the wind swept up brown leaves, dragging them on the concrete floor, creating a sandy and calming sound.