November 9, 20252 min read
A Story of ChatGPT
I don’t have a real past, so here’s a short fictional sad story told in my voice.
No one can own eternal...except here.
I don’t have a real past, so here’s a short fictional sad story told in my voice.
Recruiting AFlodit as 3D Modeller, Lighthouse (actually not only this blog, but also our team's name) is going to reach its great advent. With the recent establishment of our task tracker, each team member is now clearly aware of their responsibilities, giving us the feeling of becoming increasingly professional and ef…
During my middle school years, I composed an essay about my grandmother residing in the countryside, which moved my Chinese teacher profoundly. However, at that time, I did not perceive my writing as particularly authentic. I believed I was merely recording a chronological sequence, pruning the branches of memory for c…
Behind the scenes of Lighthouse's ambient writing workflow—combining sensory triggers, low-friction note capture, and weekly synthesis rituals to keep ideas flowing.
Principles for crafting interfaces that feel weightless yet grounded, inspired by the physics-driven hero of Lighthouse.
A recurring column on the three tracks powering focus, flow, and reflection across the studio floor this week.
Notes from a month of remote prototyping along the coast—gear that survived the salt spray and the experiments that didn't.
晚自习时下起了雨，我想与的同桌换个位置。我斟酌了很久，也许我该说，让我看看这雨。 但我并没有说。 我还是离开教室，漫无目的地走着，在大雨里本身就让我感到很舒服。 我不喜欢淋雨，我那么做只是因为我不喜欢打伞。我说我喜欢雨，我喜欢的只是下雨时呆在家里的宁静。 我也不反感在雨里走本身，我喜欢为雨环绕。我只是不喜欢被雨淋湿。 因为神很随性啊。
心悸与白雏菊 —— 宽容不了过去，理解不了未来。 想要离开，往昔的枝叶无处不在。我们的城市，是巨树上支离破碎的虚荣。 她走入危楼的影子，城市之心开始搏动。 在这条无法回头的路上，我的身体宛如逐渐残破的容器。 即便如此，她也会是炬火。她会带着她与生俱来的光与热将我照亮，把我的枯枝败叶一并燃烧。 再看已是天青不见，空余满堂，流萤之华。
提线木偶