There’s a building whose name I do not know. Everytime coming out of Smith Warehouse after the class, I see it standing tall and shining at the far end of the road, like a realistic dream which seems within my grab but still unreachable. It’s not really tall, only 20 floors or so, but tall enough to stands out from the other buildings in downtown. It's not really shining, only wearing several lights and the reflection of the sunset, but glittering enough in the watercolor-like sky to catch my eyes. When staring at it, I hear the singing of Siren, feeling the irresistible attraction to approach. It's like an old friend that I’ve lost connection with for a long time; it’s like a lighthouse that keeps giving out the soft glow; it’s like a exotic landmark of an whole new world I’ve never explored before. So I walk, walk towards it consciously and unconsciously. Unfortunately, I’ve never made it there, at least so far.
After the last drawing class, I carried my sketch board back to dorm. As usual, I was staring at the building during leaving Smith Warehouse. My phone was playing some old songs, and I suddenly felt so wistful, so longing, while so excited---a kind of mixed and indescribable feeling crowded in my mind and was about to explode. I wanted to splash the exact same color of the sky on a huge wall; I wanted to smash the guitar on the ground; I wanted to laugh and cry loudly on the road. I sat down on the ground, grabbed a pencil, and opened the sketchpad. I sketched out abstract lines and wrote inconsistent words. Alright. Whatever. Nevermind. This was the way I let my feelings flow out. I felt the world was shut down, without noise, without pedestrians, without any other distractions. It was just the building and me sunk deep into the light pink and blue clouds. At that time, I realized that it does not matter if I will finally get to that building or not; I was currently looking at it. I felt free. I guess it’s not just about the building; it’s about drawing and me.