“The bright moon rises over the sea, and we share this moment across the horizon.” People back then did not know that the Earth is round. We distinguish day and night by the sun and moon, and use their movements and changes to mark the passage of time. The sun and the moon are thus not only spatial coordinates but also symbols of time. However, the time of the sun and the time of the moon possess completely different qualities.
We invented the sundial for the sun, but can we use a lunar dial to show the hours? On a Mid-Autumn night, I set up a stick on the ground, trying to mark time with the moonlight's shadow, and of course, I failed—the contours of the moonlight were too gentle and vague. Therefore, the time of the moon always invites quiet observation, reflection, and memory, creating a space between humans and time that allows for retreat and return. When we see the moon, we wonder if another person is also looking at the same scene; but facing the sun, we do not have this luxury.
I once asked myself whether I cannot forget him because we were still in the same city. We lost everything that could be described as “shared,” yet at least I knew we were still in the same city. Now he has truly left, and we are placed in two different time zones, each belonging to a completely different temporal quality. How could I hope he would remember, to bring me a leaf from afar? I cannot.