At the age of 18, after getting my driver’s license, the world suddenly opened up to me. But I didn't do as well as expected on the college entrance exams, and I broke up with my friend. I chose my preferred colleges and departments exactly as my parents had wished, so except for loneliness, nothing is real. After going to northern Taiwan, I often rode fast at night. There were a lot of police officers in Taipei, and they caught speeders frequently. Watching the speedometer needle creeping and shivering at the upper edge of the speed limit, breaking the limit from time to time, I felt that something was about to break and I couldn't bear it anymore. The wind filled my sleeves, happy and sad. All that's coming my way was darkness.

At first I didn't have my own computer. Wu Bai's "White Pigeon" and Chen Jiannian's "Ocean", I like all these free songs, but I can only repeat them in my heart, humming and indulging myself in anger as the songs can't solve any problems. Of course, I also listen to love songs, but I dare not to listen too much for fear of feeling sad from listening, of being sucked into them, and even more of liking my own sadness or liking the saddened me. Beautiful and bright girls abound everywhere on and off the school campus, and sweet and clear pop singing can be heard on every road or in any row of shops. But I still think of the kind that is a little thicker and a little bit broader—the kind that is a little bit more melancholic or a little lonely. Do those count as love songs? Those songs are almost always about longing, but I don't want to love again. Later, I met a girl in the School of Foreign Languages. During the recess between elective classes, we discussed a script about a love story like this. She said that people who think in this way need the most attentive, the deepest, and the most love, but they are too careful and too prudent. If you think for too long, in the end you don't dare to even think about it. 

It was the first winter in Taipei. U2's song, Yang Naiwen's song, Faye Wong's song, Lei Guangxia's song, like water droplets condensed on the slightly foggy window. I borrowed my roommate’s computer to play these songs that they didn’t listen to, and I typed in the dark bbs interface. I liked it, but that's another kind of like, which I like but I don’t admit it, which I like but I’m not accustomed to. At the end of the carousel is Jay Chou’s "The Clock in the Opposite Direction". The mumbled sounds are like the winter rain in Taipei. I turned the volume way down and plugged in the headphones. It was very close but I really didn’t want to hear them clearly. I listened and I read one book after another. I felt annoyed and turned off the music. But when the music was turned off, I felt panicky, and so I turned on the music again. The volume is a little louder than the original volume.

It was then that I wanted to write some real poems. It's like turning the volume up toward the end of a fading song as if doing so will keep or confirm something.

[Lin Dayang's old playlist] 
01. ChthonicC 
02. Wu Bai 
03. Faith Yang 
04. Quarterback 
05. Luantan 
06. Mayday 
07. Adia (Herce Bee)
08. Chang Chen-yue (Ayal Komod)  
09. U2〈The Ground Beneath Her Feet〉
10. David Wong "Not Far From Love"
11. Summer Lei 
12. Faye Wong (Passenger)
13. Stanley Huang 
14. LUNA SEA 〈I for You〉
15. Chen Jiannian (Paudull) 
16. Jay Chou