Wentu/Xue Guangmu
The bright moonlight in front of the bed is suspected to be frost on the ground. Raise your head to look at the bright moon and bow your head to think of your hometown. This is the poem I learned in the first period of my Primary 1 Chinese class, and it is also the poem I think is the most memorable poem so far.
At first I was homesick, and then I am now reminiscing about the moon in the poem.
When I used to photograph the stars, I hated the moon a little: because the moon was so bright, and its brilliance overshadowed all the stars.
Later, for a while, I didn't photograph the stars much (most notably because it was cold), and the moon didn't pay much attention.
Then one day I went to see the fireworks, and that day the weather forecast said that there was heavy fog, very fog.
I was staring at the place where the fireworks were set off, but I didn't pay attention and saw the hazy vapor of the moon peeking out of the clouds, and then, after the moon disappeared several times that day, the sky cleared, and even the outline of the moon became clear.
Since then, I've been holding my camera in my mindless hand, quietly watching the night sky, thinking about when I'll hit such an experience, and then taking pictures of the moon.
One Point No. Guangmu
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