Wuhan is my home.
I love all of Wuhan; of its colourful buildings bursting through the ever-gray sky, its heavy mist floating above the river, and most of all, the charming ladies. (Wuhan women are very pretty!)
At the same time, I hate all of Wuhan. I hate how people are so far apart, how things come and go, and how one could feel so alone in a crowded subway on a Sunday night.
There’s nothing waiting for me there, not anymore. I love and hate Wuhan, but it no longer matters. It’s an ever-changing, and never-changing city. I haven’t changed either, I am still the person who loves riding the subway on Sunday nights. I still admire the pretty girls from afar. I still watch three movies at the theatre in a row, alone. But Wuhan is just a pile of blurry memories, the more I think about it, the more it fades away. I’ll need to leave before it leaves me.