Stoutt Kloiber

Wenxuan

I have a dream, dream that when the dawn, the city and the country sky is still reverberating with sleepiness, the first to wake people up is no longer the alarm clock and the rooster. But a sound of bird calls, euphemism, crisp song in the wisp, slowly across the sky. In turn, the city is bustling and the countryside is curling up with smoke.