While I'm still free, I'll go wandering.

     I want to wander, I want to wander, while I'm young, holding the breeze, carrying the sunshine.

　　I want to wander, alone or with someone.
　　I want to wander, without beginning or end, following the wind.
　　Riding a bicycle, headphones in, camera in hand, simple clothes and food, a large shoulder bag, the back of the bicycle carrying my hopes, I'll wander.
　　Following the wind, to Mohe. To feel the warmth and happiness of seeing the Northern Lights in the coldest place. I don't know why I'm so convinced that seeing the Northern Lights brings happiness. It's as if seeing them adds a weight to my happiness.
　　With the sand, to Ejina. Everyone says Ejina's autumn is the most beautiful, but I love the red of its winter poplars. In the silhouette of the sunset, I'll capture the most moving scene. If I'm lucky, I might even find Haizi's footprints. Perhaps I'll see him with flowing hair, bright eyes, weeping and singing in the wind and sand, his smile as beautiful as a flower.
　　Along the lake, to Delingha. Feel the gentleness and tranquility of Keluke Lake, and the ruggedness and grandeur of Tosu Lake. Along Dalian Lake, feel the unwavering love between Keluke and Tosu. Perhaps you will gain a purity and emotion unlike any other love story. Hai Zi saw Delingha as a desolate city in the rain. Perhaps it is because Delingha carries both romance and sorrow that it so captivates me.
　　Hand in hand with the rain, go to Wuzhen. Borrow the hand of time to touch the mottled white walls and blue tiles. Walk barefoot on the aged stone paths, appreciating the moving vicissitudes of this tranquil Jiangnan town. If you are lucky enough to encounter a misty, rainy day, hold an oil-paper umbrella and step into the world of Xu Zhimo's poems.
　　Accompanied by butterflies, go to Yunnan. Go to Butterfly Valley at the foot of Xishan Mountain in Kunming and experience a real-life fairyland. Some say that the butterfly that lands on your shoulder is your guardian angel. It spends its short life just to land on your shoulder and tell you that it is here. Countless times I've dreamt of fluttering among butterflies, searching for the one that lands on my shoulder.
　　Riding on clouds, I'll go to Tibet. Standing on the golden roof of the Potala Palace, I'll gaze at the sky, unable to bear looking down. Lost in the clouds of Tibet, I don't want to leave.
　　Dragging the light, I'll go to Lijiang. I'll melt away the chaos and clamor of the world into the murmuring waters of Lijiang. Returning to the most primal simplicity, letting my soul sleep peacefully.
　　Wandering isn't travel; it requires planning the time and place. Wandering might mean eating wild fruits, drinking dew, sleeping on the streets; it might mean getting lost; it might mean encountering unexpected dangers… but I still want to set off. Regardless of whether a tiger or a rose awaits me. I love setting off, just to leave all the scenery behind in yesterday. I won't linger, for lingering brings many shackles, shackles not only time but also dreams.
　　While I'm still free, I'll wander. I don't want to one day, carrying the baggage of wandering, yet burdened by family and career.
    While I'm still healthy, I'll wander. I don't want to one day lie in a hospital bed, map in hand, only to sigh a few times.
　　While I'm still young, I want to wander. I don't want to one day plan everything only to find myself old and gray.
　　I want to wander…
　　to find a solitary eternity.

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