It’s summer night, hot, but cold inside.

The castle is full of people—women and knights. At that time, I could be the youngest one there. “What is a real knight?” the King Arthur suddenly looking at me with his deep green eyes. I did not except that, but as quick as it is my nature, I response words that I called out for thousands of times when I was an initiate knight: “Honor, wisdom, humble, never afraid!” He looked at me with satisfactory. I firmly believe those words; I already engraved them on my heart–it is my motto, but until the come of that man, I have no clear understanding of that.

Life, should be as perfect and harmony as a sphere which has the philosophical closeness and symmetry. Naturally, I keep this obsession into science, then I found I was wrong, on both.

It seems like it was difficult to show my feelings to my parents, and because of it I tend to absorb information more than expressing it. Back to the time, the most frequently used body parts of mine to interact with the world are brain, eyes, and ears, the nose is not included because of my rhinitis. Sit at the back left of a car, I staring at the front seat to create extraordinary connections between leather patterns, hear all the things people around discussing, maybe shocking them by pointing out a better solution, then close my eyes go into my inside mind palace.

Inside the wide, white house, the “master” dressed in black, stands upon the platform. “Let’s celebrate the coming of our friends, shall we?” he says to the children before him. He is their father, but not by blood. The children, dressed in white, reply “yes” one by one, with planned perfect meticulous smiles.

“Sorry, sir, but what are we celebrating?”, the youngest little “stander,” said.

The “master” askance at him with unknown mean. Saying: “Oh, you people do not hear the history yet” “Surely, you must familiar with the story before the Cold War, because that’s the thing people want to tell”