In the quietest corner of my living room, it stays quietly, like a watchman accustomed to silence. It was an old bathtub, a "relic" that seemed a bit out of place in the modern home layout. Its white enamel has long lost its former luster and is now tinged with a faint yellow color. A few fine cracks have crept up along the edges, resembling the blue veins on an old man's back or the scars left by time without notice. Every time the afterglow of the setting sun passes through the window lattice, gently caressing its mottled surface, I can always read from it a complex emotion that is hard to describe, mixed with nostalgia and a hint of loneliness.
2025-12-31
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