Last summer, I once complained that I could seldom hear the singing of cicadas. Now. speaking of the moon. I feel like I haven’t seen the moon for a long time, either. I remember how one late night I woke up suddenly to find that there was no more blaring of the radio from the window of the opposite house, no more clatter of the next door’s mahjong tiles and that all lights in the neighborhood had been put out. A creamy white ray of light shone in through my southern window to cast shadow of the window lattice on my quilt. I was somewhat surprised at first, then it dawned on me that it was the moonlight. Curious to have a look at it, I looked out of the window. But unfortunately, it was soon hidden by clouds.