I arrived in Los Angeles on the 22nd and departed on the 2nd, spending 10 memorable days with my team. From the moment I stepped into the open air, there was a vague sense of unease that lingered. On my last day, I wandered through downtown Los Angeles for an entire afternoon and ended up sharing a box of blueberries with a tattooed man from South America.
Perhaps the biggest takeaway from this trip was stepping away from the filtered lens of social media and second-hand stories from friends, immersing myself in the city as it truly is. The scent of marijuana mixed with the stench of urine, while homeless individuals lay scattered across the streets, sometimes bursting into sudden outbursts. That sense of unease and disconnection persisted throughout my time in LA. One street could host a completely different atmosphere from the next. Cars sped by under the scorching sun, while just meters away, homeless people rested in the shade. Uber rides were expensive, fast food wasn’t as cheap as expected, and adjusting to the tipping culture took time.
Before long, I found myself adopting the stereotypical “European view.” Europe and America are fundamentally different. European cities pride themselves on being “walkable,” while in America, not owning a car means hemorrhaging money. In Europe, class divides are subtle but deeply ingrained—old money hides behind closed doors, cushioned by social welfare systems that encourage a more relaxed pace of life. In contrast, wealth in America is much more visible. The $18+ minimum wage might seem high, but it fuels ambition and innovation, driving the pursuit of the American Dream. While World War II left Europe in ruins, its long history remains intact. As my Italian friend’s family mentioned, about 80% of Italy’s cultural heritage is still poorly preserved, with stories waiting to be told at every corner. Established industries like automotive, railways, and electrical systems remain pillars of Europe’s economy, but they are being reshaped by waves of technological disruption. In contrast, the war propelled the U.S. economy, and it has continued to stay ahead of the curve.
A trusted mentor once told me that the next decade would likely remain under American leadership, particularly when considering domestic consumption and tech innovation. A wise friend of mine added, “History repeats itself. After periods of rapid innovation and growth, we return to times of caution and a longing for stability—a cycle reminiscent of post-war America and Japan.” But now, I find myself wanting to embrace more optimism. The world is progressing, and technology is expanding (or perhaps compressing) the scope of human responses. “Courage is the most precious quality of our time.” The world may improve, even if that change doesn’t directly impact me—and that’s okay. Everyone finds their own ways to cope. The most important thing is to care for ourselves, look after those around us, and offer kindness and love to the world whenever possible. That’s my perspective.
A post I read today resonates with this thought: “The trend of de-globalization mainly plays out in the power struggles between major nations, but amidst the chaos, talent from smaller countries quietly emerges, blooming on the global stage.” Everything is changing quietly. Confidence crumbles and rebuilds. Pressure builds, waiting for release. And dispersed crowds will once again gather. That’s the beauty of the changing world.
“No matter how authoritative someone may seem, they are still just another person. Their experiences might appear intuitive and practical, but they’re not necessarily your truth. I live a lifestyle without rigid rules or expectations. I love art; it’s a part of me. Everything else is secondary, and I don’t have to overthink it.”
“哪怕再权威的他人也只是他人，他人总结的经验看起来直观好用，却未必是你的真理。我实践的是一种生活方式，没有定律也没有必然，我爱艺术，艺术是我，其他的就精力有限难以照顾，也不必纠结。”