a musician played and sang Jiang Kui's "first song of middle Prelude of rainbow skirt" for me yesterday. It was the first time I had heard that song played on the guitar and found it was unbearably sad. Even though he doesn’t understand it because of the cultural difference, just like I don’t understand western poetry. "I think back to my youth wandering, mountains and passes to the sound of the flute, the entertainment house under the Willows." Some things can only be understood through first-hand experience. Perhaps only people who move frequently can understand Jiang Kui’s wandering life experience and frustrations he laments, during his mid and later life. I need to move again tomorrow because the landlord wants to remodel. Today is my last night to be here. I wonder how many more last nights I am likely to bear.