A dust outline where a pipa once lay. How did it come here? Swim back from the sea? Fall from a thousand moons…
A dust outline where a pipa once lay. How did it come here? Swim back from the sea? Fall from a thousand moons? Did it flow out from my hands, my embrace, my heart? Was it waiting for strings, for hands, for a melody, or an unexpected yet fated meeting?
It thought to itself: if I can play again… maybe I'll remember.