What Happens Here, Stays Here
I've been away from Shanghai for a long time now. In the beginning, I didn't feel like I'd really left—it was just a temporary absence, like I could go back anytime. But now it feels different.
What happened there stays there.
The memories, the streets, the moments—they belong to that place, to that time. Shanghai has become something I can revisit in my mind but can't quite touch anymore. It's like the city and I have quietly agreed to let go. Sometimes, in quiet moments, I wonder if Shanghai remembers me too. If the streets I walked, the cafes I sat in, the river I stared at—if they still hold any trace of me. Or maybe, like all cities, it's already moved on, leaving me to carry those memories alone. The separation feels final now—not just in distance, but in time. Shanghai isn't a place I can return to; it's a place I can only remember. And maybe that's how it should be.