Ten years ago, I went to visit a friend in Marseille, Provence, and stayed at her's farmhouse in the countryside for the weekend. The next morning, She and her husband (a guy who looked like Jesus) drove a pickup truck older than me to drop me off. Go to the village road and wait for the bus back to the city.

 

At that time, the spring sun was bright, the mountains were clear, the friend looked sideways at his husband, and the two stared at him speechlessly.

 

That moment was recorded by me, and the picture has always been imprinted in my heart. Ten years have passed in a flash, and this year I am idle in Beijing. With the black and white photo of that year and some memories of France, I painted this painting as a souvenir.