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Spec: 2026-10-25_add-blog-i18n
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title, pubDate, category, tags, mood
| title | pubDate | category | tags | mood | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| The lost blood-red gift, lost in the sea breeze | 2026-03-25 | reading |
|
#0f766e |
Autumn – The Autumn of Scott, the Autumn of a Father, the Autumn of a Youth (A Prelude to Winter)
Autumn brings a sense of desolation, signifying the twilight of time. The father has grown old, as has the strong and vigorous Mastro Scott. Under the burden of life, the once youthful and strong father can no longer handle everything with ease and confidence. Faced with his former companions, he has no choice. His two children witness all this: their former playmates must now distance themselves from them. For the first time, they confront the cruelty of reality. For the father, he has lost his most loyal companion, Scott, who has been with him through many hardships. Would the father be willing to sell Scott? No! But he must do so. With children still needing care around him, he is no longer the same person he used to be. Under the weight of life’s burdens, he has no choice. He loves Scott, he loves his children, he loves his wife… To survive, love also requires compromise.
The youth see firsthand the cruelty of life and the helplessness of growth. For the father, it is the helplessness of a hero at the end of his career; for Scott, it is the tragedy of loyalty being betrayed; for the children, it is the moment when their innocence ends.
Darkness Beyond Reach – James’s “Departure”
At the age of 18, James bids farewell to his parents and grandmother, setting off on a journey to escape Breton Point. He wants to get away from the coal mines, to break free from fate… But he realizes that he can never truly escape them. It seems that since birth, serving the coal mines has been his destined mission, one he cannot escape.
This is a story of seeking a future, but also of stepping into darkness. Darkness comes from beneath the earth, from the absence of light. It comes from the future, from seeing clearly the destiny that awaits us. It comes from a darkness that we cannot escape. The darkness is vast and endless. We want to leave, to break free from our fate, but we are still trapped in its embrace, carried by it towards the unknown.
This is a shackle passed down through generations, a fate that originated from this land—Breton Point. It is impossible to change. We try to break free, but it seems like we are pushed forward by fate, towards this vast darkness. This is the longing of a young man, his resistance against fate, his helplessness… And then there is the acceptance of fate after seeing it clearly.
The Lost Blood-red Gift in the Sea Wind – The Distant Home
When I return to the place where I was born, a seemingly successful existence, I meet my father, mother, my former wife, and my son. In the past, I chose to leave this place and go to Montreal. Now, as I return here again, the sea wind is fierce, as if trying to drive me away from these people who once were my family. I cannot hug them anymore, nor can I share a happy life with them.
For me, they are the blood-red gifts lost in the sea wind. They carry my past, my childhood memories of family and love. But now, all of that has disappeared in the sea wind. To them, I am an outsider. My parents treat me calmly, while my former lover hates me. My child doesn’t even recognize me. My presence might actually disrupt the existing balance, warmth, and happiness.
This is the helplessness of returning to the past once again, after reaching adulthood. Successfully getting away from that seaside, one waits for another return, only to find that it’s no longer possible to go back. One no longer belongs to that place. The sea breeze has swept away everything, and the cold wind stings everyone’s heart.
Hometown is not a place where one can return; it’s a past that can never be reached again. We have all become strangers in our own lives. In the sea breeze, we gaze at each other, facing that lost, blood-red gift of the past.
Returning to Hometown – The Journey Back
Returning to the hometown from the big city. Returning to the hometown is different from the return that comes with the lost, blood-red gift in the sea breeze. The story of returning to the hometown involves a more acute conflict. The story of returning to the hometown is based on blood ties and family bonds, but it also involves a sense of separation. Unlike the calmness of the lost, blood-red gift in the sea breeze, the main characters of this journey are from the big city. The father comes from the countryside, deeply bound by darkness, while the mother is a beautiful woman living in the bright and colorful city. As a child, the young man faces a strong opposition between these two emotions during his journey back to the hometown. His father wants to return to his former homeland to see his family again, to step onto that solid ground once more. His mother, however, hates this dark city from the bottom of her heart, unwilling to let her child be exposed to such fate and suffering again.
Then, in his youth, he was naive. He didn’t know what his parents felt about this dark city. He played with his siblings, searching for happiness in his unfamiliar homeland. But in the eyes of his grandmother, they no longer belong here. They have already left this city, and they have broken away from the family’s bloodline. His father wants to reconnect with the past, while his mother wants him to stay away from this darkness.
When everything ends, everyone waves goodbye, but the train keeps going forward, because it has no choice, and because it doesn’t like to see people waving goodbye. His father can’t return; he is no longer a true Cape Bretoner. His mother doesn’t want to return; she despises this land from the bottom of her heart. His child can’t return either; he has only a brief interest in his hometown, without any deep attachment.
The Gilded Gift of Grayness – The Bitterness of Growing Up
The youth’s courage and growth, but the pain caused by misunderstandings between parents.
The youth desires to gain his parents’ recognition through his own efforts, to reduce their pressure on him. But the way to earn money isn’t the traditional way of gaining acceptance. His parents hope that Jesse will be honest and have a sense of morality, and that he won’t go astray. They love Jesse, but they don’t approve of him earning money through gambling, nor do they approve of his behavior of staying out of bars all night and getting drunk.
On one side, the teenager believes that he has earned money through his own efforts and wants to gain his parents’ approval. On the other side, his parents, based on their moral values and beliefs, think that their child has gone astray and want to correct his “wrongful behaviors”. The teenager accepts his parents’ teachings, endures the “gray gifts” they give him—punishments and discipline—and loses the “golden gifts” of pride and sense of achievement. But in return, he receives the “gifts of growth”—there are always conflicts between a child’s actions and those of their parents. A child’s brave actions may seem insignificant to their parents. This is a problem between generations, as well as between different roles within a family. It’s a bitter but true reality.
The perseverance of the older generation, and the departure of the younger ones
It’s much braver to spend a lifetime doing things that one dislikes, rather than constantly selfishly pursuing dreams and acting on a whim.
My father loved literature and cherished the idea of freedom. However, in the face of life’s challenges, he chose to bind himself tightly to this ship. He sent his children away, so that they wouldn’t be bound by this ship anymore. He was willing to spend his entire life on this ship, sitting in that chair, peacefully living out his days. He dedicated his life to life itself, to his descendants.
As the protagonist, I witnessed my father’s choices and his eventual death. In my heart, there was both admiration for my father and contempt for myself. I lacked my father’s courage, but in the end, I made the same decision he would have made: to stay on this ship and carry on his legacy. However, in my mother’s eyes, all of this was in vain. My father is gone now, and this ship no longer deserves its former glory. The younger generation has abandoned it, and it no longer belongs to us anymore.
This is a conversation between two generations. It reflects the aspirations of the younger generation for a new life, while the older generation maintains their attachment to the past. But the father acts as a bridge between the old and the new eras. He supports his children as they move towards the new era, while he willingly remains trapped in the old times. The death of the father was utterly powerless. In the vast ocean, everything shattered, and the bridge between the new and the old eras was destroyed. I, my brothers, my sisters—to those from the old era, to this land, we are all traitors.
The road to Luancenjiao – A struggle between life and death
A father and son on the verge of death engage in a profound conversation at the end of their lives. The grandmother doesn’t want to live alone, nor does she wish to be confined in a nursing home. She wants to be redeemed by her grandson. Meanwhile, the grandson realizes that his life is coming to an end. In his last moments, he also wants to be close to his grandmother, hoping to receive her redemption. But things don’t always go as we hope. Sitting opposite each other, separated by countless years, neither of them can be redeemed by the other.
The path to the point of Julan Cen is the way for a grandson to search for past memories, a path to pursue kinship. It is also the road of grandmother’s tragic memories, and ultimately, it leads to death.
In her youth, her grandmother watched as her husband left her. In her old age, she saw her children grow up and move away from her. She lived alone in a house perched on the edge of a cliff, accompanied only by livestock, the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs, and endless loneliness. At the end of her life, she hoped to be redeemed by her grandchildren. But she failed. Her grandson, who was also facing death, could only allow her to enjoy a brief moment of redemption and love. After that, there was nothing but true loneliness.
Sun Tzu walked away from here, towards the city. In the last moments of his life, he stepped onto the path that led to Rangcenjiao, in search of the last trace of love. He remembered his grandfather’s death, witnessed the same patterns of behavior shown by his parents towards his grandmother. Then, during his grandmother’s dying moments, he witnessed the final stages of her life. His grandmother passed away. The world before him became dark. Even the last glimmer of hope disappeared. The world within his heart also turned dark. Two kinds of darkness began to merge together, and everything was lost in darkness.
Chains woven from blood and sea, waves of growth and fate intertwining
Brent Island symbolizes barrenness, inheritance, and fate. It has witnessed generations of people struggling to maintain their traditions and traditions. The continuation of miners’ lives, the passing on of fishing traditions—all these have also shown how new generations resist their fate. They flee Brent Island, flee the gloomy cities, flee the sea. It also reflects the gap between generations, the dedication of ancestors towards their homeland, their perseverance in holding onto the facts and beliefs they have chosen. Children yearn for a new life and look forward to the outside world. Ultimately, Brent Island represents the helplessness, pain, hope, and longing that people experience under the constraints of their fate.
Brighton Point marks the beginning of everything, and also the end of everything. The story begins at the shores of Brighton Point, and ends there as well. This story about growth, about fate, about returning back... it is tightly linked to Brighton Point. Brighton Point is a chain woven from blood and sea… it’s like a unique fortress. New lives emerge from within this place, while old lives remain stubbornly clinging to their former ways. Those who have already left wish to return. This is a land bathed by the sea breeze, filled with sorrow and dignity. Some stay steadfast, others suffer… but these are their eternal roots. It’s also the root that many cannot escape from… even though they seem never to be able to break free from the chains woven by blood and sea… those chains belonging to the Soviet Union.
Brenton Point marks the beginning of life in this story, as well as the final chapter leading to death. People begin to grow here, escape from here, and return again. They stay steadfast here, and also move on to new lands. This place carries the helplessness people feel towards the challenges of reality; it carries their courage to break free from the cage of fate. It also embodies the indelible connection between those who leave their homeland and the land they once inhabited, along with the paradox of never being able to return. It bears witness to everything that happens on this island, this dimly lit city—every story about growth, every story about ideals and reality. It embodies the struggles of survival, the hope of living, and the tranquility of death. Everything occurs alongside this island, alongside the fierce, salty wind that blows through the calm sea.
Autumn
Every morning brings with it an increasingly dark atmosphere, and its expression becomes even more gloomy. The Atlantic Ocean’s murky waters, with their yellowish-tinted waves, hit the smooth rocks along the shore with great force, without any mercy. These rocks scattered beneath the ever-present cliffs seem to be remnants of some giant who have carelessly dropped them there.
- The heavy rain fell like countless beads tilted by the wind, covering the entire area with water.
The darkness stretches endlessly...
At that time, we all prayed, including him, for the tendon to remain intact and for any infections to be avoided. After all, that hand was the only one he had left. In the dangerous and unpredictable ocean, we were all passengers who depended on that hand for survival.
– But all storms eventually diminish into mere strong winds, and ultimately return to calmness. Perhaps without storms and strong winds, we cannot achieve any true peace. Or maybe peace requires those storms as a prerequisite, in order for it to truly manifest its true nature.
Once you drink the water that comes from beneath the ground, it becomes part of your body. It’s like the blood that a man leaves in a woman’s body—it can change a woman for life, and remains with her forever. That part of the man continues to flow deep within the woman’s body. Such things can keep you awake at night, haunting you until the end of your life.
I extended my hand towards my grandfather. Suddenly, I felt a twisted and powerful force coming from his hand—it seemed like it could crush my palm completely. His fingers were all deformed; his thumbs were flattened and overly broad. The scars on his hands had been polished to a hard, black texture. Those enormous, irregularly shaped balls at the joints of his fingers indicated that he had suffered severe injuries due to broken bones. Yet, it was still a hand full of terrifying power. For a moment, I had a terrifying thought: perhaps I wouldn’t be able to walk anymore… perhaps I would never be released from this situation. But in the end, my grandfather let go of my hand. I felt free again.
- Even on those rough and uneven streets, when you realize that it may never be possible to step foot there again, or even to see them once more in this lifetime, they still seem desolate and lonely.
I saw the expressions on their faces—the expressions of hundreds and thousands of people who have appeared in my past life. I even saw the same expressions myself. I’ve encountered such vehicles before, and I saw the same looks reflected in the glass and mirrors. At this moment, I don’t really belong to their lives at all. I’m just trapped inside this semi-transparent, movable display box. I stay for a while along their sorrowful streets, then disappear. Their lives go on as usual, without any changes. I simply walk through their lives, without being involved with them at all. Another insignificant river carries away its floating debris, while only the banks remain eternal. The water flows towards some unknown destination. Those debris never reach that destination, nor can they ever reach it. In that brief moment, it’s enough for them to categorize me, and then dismiss me as if I weren’t even there: “Our struggles, the spirits buried in our graves… What can he understand?”
I finally understand that the elders in my past life were much more complex than I judged them to be. Grandpa was emotional, romantic, and loved coal mines. Grandma, on the other hand, was strict, practical, and hated coal mines. There were definitely differences between them. My mother was silent, strong, and obedient; my father was impatient, often becoming rude and inappropriate, yet he also had deep affection that couldn’t be expressed in words. They were so different, but both of them managed to carry on certain aspects of their lives over the past eighteen years, and I inherited those aspects from them. Other than that, I have no idea what kind of life or world I actually lived. Their lives flowed into mine, and my life became one of theirs. There were certainly differences between us, but in many ways, we were much more similar than I thought. Now I realize that perhaps one can live two lives, yet see the same truth.
It seems that there’s nothing I truly know about myself. But I do understand my mistakes: I wasn’t honest enough with others and with myself.
The car continued its journey, heading towards the darkness of the night. The headlights of the car searched for that tempting white line. It seemed to rise gently, as if it were pulling us forward, upward, towards some deep place. And we simply followed it, plunging deeper into the boundless darkness.
The Lost Gift of Blood in the Sea breeze
- In the darkness, it’s warm; in the wind, it’s calm.
The darkness oppresses me, yet it prevents me from falling asleep. Everything I hear and see seems to be mere illusions. They are merely walls of memory, sparks of imagination that keep burning out against those walls.
Returning to My Hometown
Everyone is waving, but the train just keeps going forward. It has no other choice, and it also doesn’t really care about people waving goodbye.
A golden gift, tinged with grayness
He then thought about how terrifying the violence hidden within his father’s body was. That violence roared deep within him, like a turbulent stream beneath a mountain peak. It echoed in some deep, inaccessible caves, where water splashed against the rocks.
Ship/Boat
For her, what we call the “longview” is nothing more than the place where her fearless black eyes gaze, that line separating the sea from the sky.
It’s much braver to spend a lifetime doing things that you hate, rather than constantly selfishly pursuing your dreams and acting on your own whims and desires.
Outside that solitary window, whether it’s the ice and snow of winter, the oppressive heat of summer, or in autumn when the wind blows and waves rise, her mother stands alone, gazing out at the sea. It’s still dark when she wakes up, and she hears the sound of shoes on the gravel path leading to the dock. She knows that those footsteps will never stop, because no one in her family wants to go with them to the fishing boats that take them into the sea. What she cannot bear is thinking about her mother’s deep affection for the sea… But when she thinks of you, her heart fills with bitterness: for to her, the former represents loyalty, while you represent betrayal.
The way to Dulao Cenjiao
“We are the descendants of that despair in our hearts. Skye, Rum, Balla, Diri—they are our past.”
It is quiet and elegant. The beauty of its wings is restrained yet strong. Its extraordinary vitality is fully reflected in its demeanor.
When I cut my grandmother’s yellowed, dirty nails, I realized that I was allowed to participate in a silent, secret communication. This kind of communication is something that strong people often experience when they interact with those who are weaker. This gap between ability and understanding was something that my grandmother used to impose upon her children—sometimes even their children. This gap further fueled our hidden shortcomings, and adults always carried these flaws onto the next generation. I remember dirty diapers, wet sheets… the first time I tried to speak or walk. I remember Santa Claus coming and going, and all those silly, childish wishes. I remember fearing the passing of time, the fears from childhood that would wake me up from nightmares, and the screams I would let out alone in the middle of the night. I remember the release during the night, the real and imagined secrets and sins… I remember all of this, and I will never forget it. The gap between ability and understanding also includes the tangible support given through physical actions, maintaining health as a way to continue this commitment… Perhaps, it also includes love. In the past, when I thought of my grandmother, I thought more of her abilities. But now, I think of love. Maybe, what I am thinking now is that my grandmother’s strength was always too obvious.
– No one has ever said that living is an easy thing. Life is simply about surviving.
We sat at both ends of the kitchen table, looking at each other. It seemed as though there was a gap between us, filled with the long years that have passed since our times.
She held my hand so tightly, as if I could pull her out of that dark, dreamlike water. I tried to respond with the same strength, because somehow I imagined that she could save me. Suddenly, both of us started crying. We cried for each other, and also for ourselves. We thought we could find strength in each other, but in this moment of fragile tears, we realized that we had found it in each other.
Sometimes, in the fear of darkness, it’s difficult to distinguish between dreams and reality. We may wake up in the middle of the night, but because the world from our dreams seemed so real, we try to return to that comforting state of oblivion by using our own willpower. Other times, the situation is reversed: we might pinch ourselves or bang our fists against the iron bedposts. Sometimes, nightmares have no boundaries at all.
All expectations and fears, both those from the past and those of the present, collide and entangle with each other. Sometimes, when we reach the end of the “present,” the “past” seems to become even more significant. Because there is nothing else besides the past; we feel that there is nothing else we can understand. I feel like I’m falling back into the past, hoping to possess more of it, because my future seems to be getting fewer and fewer. Twenty-six years is too short—it isn’t enough. I want to follow in the footsteps of our ancestors, so that I can gain more from what remains of this insignificant present. Those superstitions, herbal remedies, the calls of fate, the sounds of violins that linger in our minds, and those cancer treatments that resemble spider webs… I want to understand them all. What do those所谓的“divine eyes,” psychic visions, dogs’ instincts, and seagulls’ cries have to say about survival and its end? I also want to know those things. I want to return to those priests who can cast spells with their hands. I want to return to those healers who believe in faith-based therapies… but my faith may not be enough. I can go back to any past, but science is too indifferent. I don’t want to die at its hands.
At that moment, just like the music, the darkness both inside and outside gradually merged into one. They flowed towards each other, blending together, becoming indistinguishable from one another. The differences were erased, leaving only purity behind. There was no space between them, no sound to be heard. This encounter brought all things back into unity.