“𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞” 𝐚𝐧𝐝 “𝐓𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫”
The last of the thirteen stops went to Nanjing. Not by design — this is simply where I graduated.
When the plane trees are greenest
Nanjing in June, plane trees at their thickest green, closing over the road. Sunlight leaked through the leaves and landed on the gown in patches.
Only while taking the photos did I notice that four years had happened in a handful of fixed places: the stone at the gate, the track, the steps in front of the library, the tree below the dorm.
Hats in the air
The compulsory graduation shot is the hat toss. Seven or eight of us in a row, three-two-one, and everyone throws at once, then scrambles to find their own.
There were sillier ones too: pretending to sleep on the desks, striking strange poses in the corridor, writing “not studying anymore” on the blackboard. Everything we did not dare do in four years, we did on the last day.
Three people, three directions
At the end, the three of us got together. Three university crests were added to the photo: NUAA, Waterloo, UESTC.
Four years ago we walked in through the same gate; four years later we leave in three directions. Nobody said “let’s keep in touch,” because we all knew we would, and we all knew it would not be the same.
The last frame, left for later
The plane trees of Nanjing were at their greenest, and we happened to be young. The last frame is left for the future — may we keep our kindness, our candour and our heat, and run at whatever comes next.
Five of thirteen stops done. Eight to go. Slowly.
Life needs less overthinking. Do more. Feel more.
