wild ghost377:
In October 2021, my grandfather left us forever. At the time, I was in my final year of high school and was unable to make it back to my hometown to see him one last time. The portrayal of Eric’s condition in his final days is, in part, drawn from the memories of my grandfather then.
I still vividly remember a snowy New Year's Eve from my childhood. My grandfather was holding a firework wand; it soared upward in a trail of sparks and burst into a tiny, singular point of white light against the dark sky.
EnderstrayKPC:
Translating this piece has been a journey through the heart of what it means to be human in the most desolate of places. This article was recently selected as the January Featured Article on the Chinese Branch—a timing that feels deeply symbolic. January stands at the threshold of a new cycle, serving as a reminder that life, even in the Backrooms, is a process of constant renewal.
While the story dwells with death, it is ultimately a celebration of the resilience of the soul. As we wrote in the text, life is "ceaselessly stitching up the gaps torn open by death." It is my hope that this translation conveys the "verdant serenity" we intended to create, and that it offers you a moment of reflection on the precious, "warm breath of life" we all share.
Wishing you a peaceful and insightful reading experience.
我们应当归于何处？