No matter how big the outside world is, it can't compare to the warmth of home. Walking the red carpet many times doesn't feel as grounding as stepping on the cement floor of my hometown. No K-line, no replay analysis, only a table full of cured fish and cured meat, and my parents' nagging. In this small courtyard, you don't have to be the adult riding the winds and waves; you just need to be the loved child again. The so-called flavor of the New Year is simply: a breeze on the way home, meat on the table, and people around.
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