A week after Dochy's death, I submitted a request for leave of absence from the school, citing an extremely incurable condition that required recuperation at a hospital in the capital. Because I had a few friends who worked in the hospital, the case was opened the same day I went to explain the situation. The school's response with great efficiency is of course related to the school's concern that the student will have any physical or psychological problems while at school.

So, on a sunny afternoon, I boarded a boat bound for the city of Cloth on the other side with a travel bag containing a water glass, a change of clothes, a sleeping bag, a mobile phone charger, a micro flashlight, and a few compressed biscuits.

As for the reason, I have no way of knowing it myself, and it seems that there is a force pulling me away.

After a ten-day visa on arrival, I boarded a bus with no end to it and began to travel through the city in a ghostly way. The building is almost the same as on the other side, but the skin color of the people changes dramatically. I nestled in the window on the left side of the back of the car, nibbling on two biscuits when I was hungry, taking a sip of water from a cup when I was thirsty, and occasionally poking my head out to look out the window, but there was no intentional reflex at all.

After walking for an unknown amount of time, I stopped in front of a park with a bronze statue of Stalin at the entrance. The park does not require entrance fees, and the vast grounds are planted with pine, birch and poplar trees, crisscrossed by several paths, and at each intersection there is a bronze statue of a great Russian man, each of whom has an exaggerated height and an unusually heavy weight embedded deep in the earth.

I sat down on a bench next to a bronze statue and pulled out a glass of water and biscuits from my bag, strangely not feeling the slightest feeling of hunger, but my behavioral consciousness told me that the sun was about to set, and that I should fill my stomach at this point in time, and then find a place to shelter from the night wind and rain so that I could sleep at night.

At this time, the leaves on the trees are beginning to show signs of yellowing. In the distance, there was a loud and powerful sound of bells, and five men walked past me, three men who were slightly drunk, talking to each other, as if they were going to find another place to drink, and two young Russian girls, both with high noses, one with golden hair, the other with brown hair, who seemed to be students from a nearby school for a walk.

The sky was ripped from the east with a gradient of dark blue, and a fiery red sunset began to glow in the west. After walking through almost the entire park, I finally saw a site under construction in the depths of the park, and the cement pipes displayed on the open road were ideal for residence. After feeling a little steady, I went to the convenience store outside the park and bought a bottle of Beluga, two pieces of black bread and a few sausages.

The moon gradually rose, the bright light scattered like autumn rain, and the trees seemed to emit a cold light with moisture. I put on the hat of my sweatshirt and pulled it to my eyebrows, locked my body temperature as much as I could, unscrewed the cap of Beluga's bottle, took a sip, and a warm current flowed down my esophagus into my stomach and then throughout my body. Once my fingertips no longer felt numb, I broke open the brown bread and put in a sausage and chewed it in large gulps.

To be honest, I haven't seen such a wide sky for a long time, the last time I saw it, it should have been in the backyard of my grandmother's house, there was a spoon-shaped Big Dipper, there was a bright Milky Way, once upon a time, it was a place I longed for very much, and because I wanted to see more clearly, I secretly saved pocket money to buy an astronomical telescope. I don't remember all of this clearly, but when I met my junior high school tablemate, she said to me, "You know what? I thought you were very special. A little boy who cries his nose because he can't get a perfect score in the exam. A little boy who saved more than a year from his food expenses to buy a telescope because he liked to look at the stars. A little boy who is about to be sixteen years old and still doesn't know what virginity means. It's nostalgic, but in the delicate grains of sand, it will also become smooth in the rushing river, and I hope you won't. She grinned, and so did I.

Time and memories are only when they are aware of them, and they feel that they are no longer there. I took another sip of vodka, tightened the cap and stuffed it into my backpack, took off my shoes and put them beside me, and slipped into my sleeping bag. Dreams come a little faster than ever.

In the middle of the night, the lighthouse glows orange-yellow, and a girl in a white dress sits on the protective embankment on the riverbank, staring blankly at the quiet lake. The breeze swept the hem of her skirt, brushing her bangs and eyelashes, and she held her calves in her hands, her chin resting between her knees.

What was she crying about?