A principal told me that he celebrated the Japanese Obon Festival. He had become the principal when the previous principal passed away. He couldn't bear the sadness and didn’t expect things would end like this. The Japanese Obon Festival is heavily influenced by the Ghost Festival of Buddhism, and the Chinese Taoist Zhongyuan (中元) Festival. Every year when I return to Beijing for the new school year to deal with the toxic work environment, I see people burning joss paper in the dark; then I realize it is the Ghost Festival. These activities for the visiting spirits of the ancestors make me suddenly feel the loneliness of the night and the coldness of autumn. Maybe this is a good illustration of “spring flowers, autumn moon - when will they end?” or “I who shared spring’s glory share in autumn life’s decay.” I wonder how many more autumns am I likely to see？