What is home? A familiar taste, some trivial nagging, or scenery of daily life? Home, a place so ordinary and humble. Will one understand what it means to be home only after leaving? And what does it mean to leave? Some partings are optional, like moving and drifting around, like running away, while some are inevitable, like time passing by and aging, like disease and death. 

Winter as the end of the year is a time for harvest, and it is a season where fruits are turning from green to red. A ripe fruit fell off the branch to begin its new journey. The landscapes on the way were ever-changing. Upon looking back, the fruit found itself had somehow grown into a tree; Upon looking back, it realized — the mother tree’s foliage always held a special moment/place in its life.