old man from the harbor

After midnight, an uncle was born a newborn. In the center of the Buddhist room where incense smoke lingers He was born sitting on his haunches He stood up, his legs trembling “I really wanted to be a steamboat.“ He was a troublesome man. So the next day, we went out to the harbor in the morning. Uncle Pulp was armored up with a heavy body. “Watch out, Uncle!” I closed my eyes. Behind my eyelids, the sunlight shone thinly. Sure enough, he slips on the tetrapod. He slips on the tetrapod and flips over. His head was bleeding and he couldn't move a muscle. I knew he would not live long But the way it all ended so quickly I was a little disappointed and sentimental for a while. The next afternoon under the bridge, where I could hear the sound of the rain I was playing with stones The leaden sky stretched far out to sea to the sea beyond. Then I saw my uncle's soul emerge from his corpse the soul of my uncle, shimmering It came to me “I still can't be a steamboat But I think I can become a mirage.“ With a look of unconcern on his face He went out into the rainy sea. And he never came back.