Spring in Harbin seems about to arrive, then retreats again. The clouds over Harbin seem about to rain, yet cannot make up their minds. The wind is neither balmy nor biting. Last winter's fallen leaves have not decided whether to turn into spring soil and nourish the flowers.

We keep struggling to survive without knowing why. Perhaps all the creatures with no desire to survive have already died, leaving only us, programmed as we are. So we are driven to seek companionship, and all it brings is pain.

Yet solitude has its own beauty. Life must go on; in the end, I will not keep making things difficult for myself forever. Every gathering must eventually end, but I will always have myself for company.

They say interesting people do not need company, because they are already interesting enough on their own. I hope to become more interesting and stop this search that cannot go on.

Then I will cease to care about companionship, as the sun cares nothing for the seasons.