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I've never taken the time to deeply think about my true hopes, but one thing I am certain of is that they differ from the aspirations our country seeks to achieve, known as the Chinese dream. While the idea of everyone being equally prosperous, free, and content is undeniably captivating, I find it challenging to wholeheartedly believe in it, as it seems to be an illusory utopia, like a fragile bubble waiting to collapse. The notion seems too flawless which makes it too idealistic and even impractical. For me, my hope is modest and straightforward - I hope for a society that welcomes and embraces diverse perspectives rather than being driven solely by a singular mainstream narrative. I aspire for a world where people can listen to one another and take different viewpoints into consideration.
（135 words)

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My experience
My first impression of Austin is the extreme high temperature here, and also their love for live music. I guess it is their passion for music that turns the city up. Staying at the capital of live music, I truly experienced several fabulous live music experiences. The first time was in a bar near the campus called hole in the hall. As I walked in, I was immediately amazed by their silence and concentration on music: Everyone was staring at the singer and listening carefully, immersing themselves into the world of country music. The singer was young while his voice has the magic to tell a good story. By the way, the beer there was fantastic. The second time was in a duel piano bar in the 6th street where two pianos placed together and two talented singers were performing simultaneously. With perfect technique and massive experience of playing, they offered all song quests by us, which is impressive. The last time was the best, the concert of Alicia keys, her performance was incomparable, better than any show I have watched before. Though it is time to depart, the charms of this music city have already been rooted in my deep.
(201 words)

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Pw3: Thursday appointment

The story began and ended with beautiful poems that has profound meaning. I could not recall every detail of the poems but I do know it is about love and kindness, about a golden heart of the old. His behavior of sending his roses made me realize that the sincere goodness of a stranger can melt the solid iceberg within others’ mind, even a tiny object like a bunch of rose. Trough the rose, his enduring love to his wife passes down to the young couple with a heartfelt warmness. As the Chinese saying goes, make a gift of rose, had stay lingering fragrance. Sometimes love can be so plain and simple since love is not a thing; it is a verb.
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PW2：My earliest memory

It was on that freezing day that I started to notice what did death really mean. Back then, I was about 7 years old, yet that winter would forever be etched into my memory.  One normal day of that winter, my dad told me seriously that my grandma was never going to wake up; without further explanation. I was confused but also overwhelmed by the dead silence of the people around. The frozen air was telling me something but I could not read. Gradually, seen from others’ face, tears and sobs told me one thing clearly: we would not meet each other any more for he was going to sleep eternally from now on. This is my earliest memory and also the first bitter experience of witnessing somebody I loved pass away. (132 words)

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One warm summer evening, I found myself at a local jazz club with a group of friends. The atmosphere was vibrant, with a soft, dim glow enveloping the stage, and the aroma of coffee and excitement filling the air. As the band started to play, I felt an electrifying energy surge through me.
The musicians on stage were masters of their craft, each one possessing an uncanny ability to communicate through their instruments. They seamlessly flowed between solos and accompaniment, their fingers dancing on strings, keys, and drums, creating a mesmerizing tapestry of sound. I was captivated by the way they spoke to each other musically, passing melodies back and forth like a friendly exchange of words.
Inspired by the scene before me, I couldn't resist the urge to join in on the musical conversation. As a guitarist myself, I approached the band during their break and was warmly welcomed to sit in with them for a few songs.
As we began to play, it felt as if we had known each other for years. There was an unspoken understanding, a shared language of music that connected us instantaneously. We started with a simple blues progression, and as the bassist laid down a groovy foundation, the saxophonist and I engaged in a call-and-response exchange, much like a dialogue.
The music theory I had learned over the years acted as a guide, but it was the spontaneity of the moment that truly drove the performance. I didn't think about scales or chord progressions; I let the music flow through me, expressing my emotions and ideas through the guitar strings. It was a liberating experience, much like speaking my heart without worrying about finding the right words.