Another 55 Years

How much I know about mushrooms is that much I know about myself. Is this true?

I took 55 years to know that I am able to complete a marathon run. It took also the same years for me to fall in love with mushrooms, though a second is good enough to trigger the chemistry of love.

I have more than one dream and they are messy. I shall need another 55 years to sort them out. Will you stay to witness who I am by then?

Dreams live on

It is not right to say I have a dream, dreams are mass produced everyday.

Many are so dust-covered, but many years later, dreams remain fresh and show no signs of holiday or working man blues.

We grow old, dreams never. It is like lines of writing, sentences spoken, or Superman, dreams make all things alive.

Mushrooms come mushrooms go, dreams live on.

My small dreams about photography and marathon come true, in which new crazy dreams spin off.

To Dream in Year of the Monkey

My whole week was occupied with installation of new machines, left no room for dreaming.

People said if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.

I am lucky to have a Chinese New Year break, dreams revive.

I have dreams that are small and they do not change other people's life, but when they dry up, it is like the disappearance of phone booth to Clark Kent, though I am only Rainfield.

I need no "S" shield in order to dream while greeting you a prosperous Year of the Monkey, because this is as simple as to travel 54,000 kilometers in one somersault by Sun Wukong in Journey to the West, and because I am Rainfield.

SD Card of Dreams

There is always madness in dreams, in which I keep whatever crazy things I love to have; dreams, as I know, can be borderless big.

I save all my dreams inside each of the tiny mushrooms. I have shared, but certain parts of them are password-protected.

I perceive dreams while walking, talking and writing. I can so plot and play them, and replay them.

And suddenly when I replay a sweet one, I shall smile, yet no one in the crowd will notice. This is the beauty of life.

And I always appreciate this beauty of life.

We are Mushrooms

Night is super glue, it bonds everything included you, me and  mushrooms to become one whole black entity. 

You and I are then a mushroom.

Only when morning lights penetrate the forest, you and I happen to start shooting pictures of mushrooms, and blurting out, "Oh these little mushrooms, how beautiful they are!" 

It sounds like darkness never falls, we never close our eyes and we never dream. 

A mushroom is not more than a mushroom.