Sunlight passes through the clouds, becoming thinner and brighter. It's light and warm, and a little lazy. There are crystal clear trees hanging on the branches, and so is wormwood. Instead, it is alive, it is no longer thin and lazy, and I only see those quiet years.

I am not a competent foodie. The understanding of ingredients and the accuracy of taste are far from being mentioned, but with the passage of time, the enthusiasm for food is increasing day by day.

I began to understand the importance of eating, drinking and having fun, and began to study recipes. Articles like that, I will collect them and then experience and taste them myself. Between frying and cooking, between oil, salt, sauce and vinegar, the flickering light in front of the stove, the sound of running water in the kitchen, the sound of chopping boards, and the sound of cooking in the oil pan, all the beautiful things have penetrated into daily life bit by bit.

Looking for fun in the cracks of life and turning triviality into a poem need to cultivate this ability slowly. The fireworks in pots and pans are the most beautiful poems in life.