Starry Night returned a year later, this time in the open air. What began as an afternoon gathering carried into the evening: performers crossing the pavement, dancers in pale purple moving together, and a crowd that kept arriving as the light went down.

The first Starry Night was about finding my place in a room. This time I knew the rhythm of the event, so the camera moved differently. I spent less time searching for the big moment and more time waiting for the small ones: a performer looking up at his own trick, hands caught mid-gesture, the moment a crowd goes quiet.

The stage changed as the night came in. Colored lights opened up through the lens, and the music pushed the photographs toward something less documentary, more impression. I stopped trying to freeze the scene and let it blur.

Starry Night is still an event organized by our school's Chinese Student Association, still a reason for people scattered across the unfamiliar grounds to gather. A year apart did not make the feeling less familiar; it made the details easier to see.

October 15, 2026