Zine  01  
舒展 Unfold

How do you weave the gibberish of ordinary days into a poem?

There isn't much to this book, and the process of making it was also a process of sorting out my own inner thoughts -- 放轻松,像一条河.

The book contains a short story I wrote, which I share with you below.

Offprint London 2023,  Tate Morden.


Tree in August

He was born in the summer. It was a hot August day.

It was a village tradition for children to take a bath in the river. When he first cried and was dipped into the clear, cold water of the river, his frightened eyes looked around —— that was the first time he looked into the woods beside the river.

The villagers say that these trees by the river are gods who collect the wisdom and aura of heaven and earth in their roots, which stretch underground and gather at the bottom of the river, then nourish the living through its flowing waters.
"The river makes the trees come alive!" He exclaimed in awe when he first heard about it.

The river was like a temple.

He had bathed in the river countless times and stared at that forest countless times before he became an adult. That forest was mysterious and inviting to him, and he looked forward to the day when he could walk out of the river and into the forest.

The sap of the great trees flowed into the river.
Our blood is connected.

He kept repeating it in his mind.

He wanted to touch the tree. During the countless times he had bathed in the river, he had also met with that tree countless times. It was a tree that seemed to have been planted at his birth, its branches growing beautifully and deftly, as if greeting him when the wind blew through.

When he actually stood in front of the tree, he felt more and more how beautiful it was.

He fell in love with a tree; as a child he thought, like everyone else, that trees were all male, but now he thought the tree was female.
He visits the tree often, he hugs and whispers to her, he buys her feminine clothes, he hangs feminine underwear and dresses on her branches.
The tree does not speak.

How he wished he was a tree too, that he could sink his roots deep into the earth and spend a hundred years holding hands with her roots and veins entwined in the ground.

His companions soon discovered his secret.

"You shouldn't fall in love with a tree! You should a living woman!"
"But why? It is indeed a living woman that I am in love with!"
"It's a tree, not a man, much less a woman!"
He could not bear a conversation with so many exclamation marks and he was silent.
His friend picked up an apple from the ground and asked him what you would do if you had a bad apple.
He laughed; it wasn't a very good metaphor.
"Eat it." He said and threw the apple away. Along with that bad metaphor.

It would have its moments of low mood.
when its branches won't sway even when the wind blows.
But it was expecting the bird he loved to appear
As soon as she lands on his boughs
It will shake its leaves with joy.

He stands at the edge of the woods, the river connecting him to the mountains in the distance, and the tree connecting him to the sky.

As he looks at the tree, there is a girl coming out of the woods, dripping wet and seemingly fresh from a bath in the river. He noticed that her clothes were the same as those he had given to the tree, her limbs were deft and graceful, and as the wind blew past she smiled and greeted him.
"You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and I will never fail to praise you." He couldn't help saying as the girl stood before him.
They take advantage of the night to hide in the shade and make out.

You tremble against me.
like a wave of the sea.
We float together
Like the sea that moves on and on.

They were making love under that big tree when he suddenly saw a tsunami of waves knock it down and he could no longer find it, it had disappeared into the woods.

He thought that tree was going to be the one that would be etched in his mind and that he would not want to lose, but who knows, maybe she was.

That thought left with his orgasm.
He couldn't remember.
The wind rustled the leaves, as if the woods were mocking him.

The sap of the great trees flowed into the river. Our blood is connected.

Summer is over.

Zine  02  
备忘录 Notesbook

This book is an honest collection of all my memes from 2018 to 2022. 2022 was a terrible year for me, but the process of making this book relaxed me so much, it was like I got to know myself again.
I didn't have any thoughts of selling the book, so I was very surprised when I was contacted by readers - it turns out that people really can communicate with each other through books-

Notesbook is my secret, my silent and hidden feedback on everything around me, just as they are hidden in the covers of the books, page after page like meaningless fragments. But because of you, you opened the covers and gave them meaning.

And I am grateful.

We use books as an exchange of words.

Offprint London 2023,  Tate Morden.