This English version may have been machine-generated from the Chinese original and may not convey the original meaning accurately.
Last Monday, the temperature in New York climbed to 26 degrees. Walking down the street, I briefly thought summer had quietly arrived. The sunlight was warm on my shoulders, and the air carried that relaxed feeling of the transition from spring to summer. I relaxed along with it—as if winter had finally turned the page.
Today, arriving at Times Square again, a cold wind hit us in the face. The down jackets came back out of the closet, and the zippers were pulled all the way up to our chins. In just seven days, we went from the illusion of short sleeves back to the reality of winter. New York’s weather is simply this changeable: what you think has already gone may turn back at any moment.
But we still came—the 43rd time, just the two of us this time
Nearly ten months have passed since we first stood here on June 30 last year. From the beginning until now, the number of participants has fluctuated. There have been no spectacular scenes—only occasional onlookers. On many Monday nights, we simply stood there, pushed and jostled by the enormous crowds in Times Square, like two insignificant grains of sand.
Today was no different. In the cold wind, pedestrians hurried past, and no one stopped for us.
But after standing here for so long, I gradually came to understand something:
What we are persisting in is not getting others to see us, but not letting ourselves forget.
The weather changes. Last week was summer; this week is winter; next week may bring something else entirely. The number of people changes, and so do our emotions. Sometimes we are full of energy; sometimes we merely drag our exhausted bodies out the door. But if we wait until all the conditions are "just right" before coming out, that day may never arrive.
So even though the wind was bitterly cold today, we still saw this through. That is hope.
We hope that one day China will break out of the cycle of imperial rule and establish a truly democratic republic. This is such a huge undertaking that sometimes it makes people wonder—what exactly can two people standing in the cold wind of Times Square change? I cannot say for sure.
But I know that these seemingly small acts will eventually wear away stone, drop by drop.
The weather is changeable; what does not change is our willingness to walk out the door, again and again, in the midst of that changeable weather.
The 43rd time, recorded here. Next Monday, rain or shine, we continue.