19 years, from a blurry photo to a light that’s been turned off. This post is written for myself, and also for those in 2007 who, like me, were still living in dorms. Some things stay with you if you don’t write them down. But once you write them down, maybe they’ll fade away. Letting go has no shortcuts. When you’ve lived somewhere long enough, you eventually have to move out. You pack up your things, piece by piece, and put them back in the corner. Not so someone else can see this home, but so you’ll never have to come back. When you move out, you have to turn off the lights. When the person leaves, the lights in the room are still on. Maybe you turn them off too late, maybe it’s too loud, but the lights must be turned off because the person is already gone. Lock the door, leave the key inside. The sound of turning off the lights startled Ms. Jing, but that wasn’t my intention. I wish her well. May her days ahead have nothing to do with these words. The wind outside—whether it’s strong or not—can’t be heard by the person inside. He’s just packing his things. There are no judges in matters of the heart. Two people come together, then go their separate ways. What happens in between—I still don’t have the answers, nor do I think there needs to be any. I don’t belong to either side. This matter ends with me. This is an ordinary civil property dispute that has already entered judicial proceedings. I respect the court, respect the process, and respect all of the other party’s rights. Whatever the outcome, I will accept it.