I'll write down your name and leave it here.

Full of ideals, brimming with artistic fervor, wasting time chasing love, yearning for life, indulging in nature—

50 poems, recording the forgotten nocturnal ramblings and infatuations, and perhaps hopes, of an inexperienced youth.

From early 2019 to late 2020 were my two most unproductive years.

During those seven hundred-plus days, aside from organizing Mr. Lo Fu’s manuscripts, I spent the rest of my time squandering and indulging. The boundaries between day and night began to blur, and dreams and reality were almost indistinguishable. Looking back, they were indeed the most luxurious two years.

And as time became a recurring spiral, my brief and barren memories were constantly overlapping, overwriting, and forgetting. Almost instinctively, I copied down those messy and recurring dreams as markers left along the way. I always knew that one day I would return here, no matter for what purpose.

To this day, whether fortunate or not, I no longer record any feelings. Even if I occasionally catch glimpses of scattered inspirations in my daily life, I simply treat them as ghosts of the past, letting us each continue our separate lives, uninvolved.

Six years after my first poetry collection, this book, "I Wrote Your Name and Left It Here," similarly lacks a central theme or concept. It is merely a short collection edited chronologically, loosely recording the now-unfamiliar nocturnal ramblings and infatuations, and perhaps hopes, of an inexperienced youth.