He looked at me helplessly.

My tears came flooding down. "Mao shi, mao shi" "It's ok, it's ok"

Is it time?

Each time I visit him, I feel sad, mixed with deep thoughts.

I can't help the shadows of resentment passing through my thoughts.

"How could my own family NOT feel the way I do now back when I was hospitalised?"

My father's reading glasses.

He had always enjoy reading news, perhaps the only common trait that we share.

The thickness of the dusts shows just how long it has been unused.