At the beginning of the morning, the light always comes before a person's eyelids and quietly climbs up that window. The window is silent, but it frames itself as a frame, enclosing the first ray of sunlight in the chamber. At first, it was a very faint mark, like a water stain on rice paper, but then the light became stronger, like honey colored juice, slowly flowing down the window sill, wetting the window sill, and quietly spreading into the room, silently coating each piece of furniture with warm silver foil.This window is a silent yet diligent postman, faithfully delivering messages from beyond. In the spring morning, it brings birds chirping and mist; In the summer afternoon, it sifts through the dense shade and the sound of cicadas; At autumn dusk, it frames the flowing clouds and returning geese; On winter nights, it condenses with ice flowers, delicately carving the

When the dusk falls like a deep gray veil, the noise of the city recedes, and the lights wake up from indoors at the right time. It always quietly opens its eyes in the ashes of dusk, the light initially timid, then gradually becoming bright, like a butterfly breaking its cocoon, gently unfolding a dim yellow halo.The lamp often hangs above our heads or sits in a corner of a desk. It doesn't speak, but gently embraces the entire room with light. Under the light, the handwriting on the pages became clear, and the fingertips were also tinged with warmth; In front of the lamp, the shadow of the person was stretched and shortened, silently dancing on the wall. If on a rainy night, there are water stains on the glass windows, and the light wraps around the sound of raindrops outside the window, blending into a hazy warm yellow,