As I grew up, unlike most kids by the time, I never was under any pressure, neither having any desires to become anything. A carefree and absentminded father, who followed a path neither of his choosing nor of capable to understand, had struggled to the last day of his life on who he was and who he thought to be.  A super-busy and pure idealist mother, who cannot bear being boring, working diligently on even most onerous works in the hardest period of her life, has eyes on a future beyond this life with little vanity, much pride, tons of hard works beyond her capability but with a belief rooted in her nature-born humility and idealism, making her almost other-worldly.

No pressure from family, from school, from the life, I buried myself into 19^th century European novels, canvassing through the human suffering and pains, lightening the candle of enlightenment one after another, and setting sail toward a bookish utopian idealism, righteousness and fairness when ignoring all the hardship and complexity of all these characters endured. Inherited with the characters of the family, I saw the world in black and white, where roses blossom and grass is green. A revolutionary death seemed to be a certain happy ending at young age though a idealist revolution never came, shattering the only plan and unprepared for a world full of lions and tigers. College years and after, fully equipped with my mother’s idealist quest to the unknown and humility and my father’s layback and fear of the change and daring, I became my own irony.

We are the puppet of own mind for the desires cannot be understood and for a real world couldn’t be comprehended. Determinism is the word on the street, dwelling on daily life, fearing the change and uncertainty, despite of that the life has only one destination. No one can judge anybody, and only one itself sets its own destiny. A wanderer is always a bystander of the life. Enjoy the ride, facing the unavoidable destination. It's the destiny.