Xiao Xia, my mother is on the train now, and I feel that my hands and feet are shackled, and every time I take the train, I feel this way. People with outstretched limbs, people feasting, people unintentionally hitting your shoulders, so many people, come and go, and I always feel like I'm tied up, as if there is clear glass around me that separates me from the space around me.

After settling down, the seat was scattered all around, and the neatly prepared things in the bag had already been pulled out of shape and messed up on the way. The noisy rumbling sound that is characteristic of the train rings in your ears, creating a strangely quiet atmosphere.

Mom's throat felt sticky. Sugar, which was supposed to be eaten at noon, had partially turned into sugar, which could not wait to break down in my mother's throat and esophagus, and mixed with the mucous membranes, making me want to choke a few times, as if I suddenly wanted to be serious. But I didn't do it, and it felt sticky in my mouth, as if I could leave it alone now.

The food at noon was full of fat and sugar, and when I sat in the seat, I could feel the position of my stomach slightly tense, and my buttocks were heavy against the chair, and then the feeling that gathered in my lower body suddenly moved upward, and I noticed that my hair seemed to be oily and lifeless against my scalp. I took a deep breath and tucked my stomach away, feeling a sore back. Adjust your posture and it seems like everything is still back to square one.

Most of the people who travel are hunched backs, and there are very few people who calmly straighten their backs. Travel, itself with a leisurely artistic conception, but at the station, in the middle of the trip, but we are all hunched, ready to resist the enemy, ready to face the hardships that will appear in our lives. Traveling, for people with hunched backs, is not an easy task.

Xiao Xia, my mother remembers a long time ago on the train in Germany, a small box, there were all kinds of people in it, everyone was briefly cramped in a space like a family, maybe talking, maybe looking at each other, or just let time pass in silence. And in Japan it will be a little different, no matter how small a corner, the distance between everyone is huge, and the silence and non-inference in Japan unleash individual freedom, but also magnify one's loneliness. And here, in our hometown, it seems to be more casual, we stare at others, we talk, we even make noise, and we sometimes like me now, holding back and not saying a word.

Turn on the music, and this train journey immediately takes on the majestic momentum of time and space travel, and the scenery around you is as fleeting as time. The sound of empty music sounded in my ears, time and space began to rush away from my mother, the carrier of the train, carrying this car of people, away from the past, away from everything we had accomplished. At the end is a brand new unknown. In the gap between time and space, what remains in my mother's heart is the wish to tell you.

Xiao Xia, the world's trains seem to cross the same fields and mountains. The scenery passing by in front of you, distant little houses, flat lawns, tall trees, stretches of power towers, endless sunlight and clouds, unfold like a picture scroll with everyone's journey, and slowly retract as they approach the end, as if they no longer exist. Sometimes my mother wondered if that kind of life was different from the life in the fields where you could sometimes see cows and horses. And our life, high-rise buildings, wide factories, rumbling pressing, and car horns, rows of residential buildings, and children running downstairs, is it too cheesy and compact for some people? Xiao Xia, what kind of life is the most ideal, and when can we enjoy it comfortably, without thinking about it, and let our thoughts be full of comparisons and scruples. Comfortable enjoyment is not our ultimate pursuit?

The train was still running in a circle, and Mom saw some greenhouses, maybe strawberries were growing in them, and the fresh sweetness was growing, and they didn't care about anything like life.

The thoughts drifted and swirled, and now the sound of the wind was coming from the ears, from a fresh and crisp faint wind sound, to a long sound like tinnitus. It was already afternoon, and the heads began to sink and the people in the car were crooked, as if they had all lost their lives. Maybe I should close my eyes and sleep for a while like everyone else, but at the same time, I don't want to stop talking to you without a word.

Xiao Xia, in this chaos and ambiguity, my mother remembered an old movie, which was a romantic story on an ocean, restrained not like the tone of the story of Europeans and Americans, but a bit of oriental Zen and poetry. The protagonist of the story is a musician who has lived on a ship all his life, and the story tells about his unrooted love and his life and death. The language of the whole story is music, the notes are entangled with his unspoken love, and the memory of his dying moments, everything is spread through the music, such an introverted story, the language seems too sharp and explicit, only use music to provoke nerves and convey emotions.

Xiao Xia, maybe her mother is such a person on the road, maybe her mother will not land for a long time, and she will always drift. When I was young, my mother had a very vague fantasy about the life she wanted, and at that time, she said that she wanted to fly around different cities on a plane. But the fantasy ended here, and my mother never seriously figured out where she would live in the future, what way she wanted to live, what kind of place she would work in from time to time, and then go to another place. These mothers have not thought about it specifically, and it may not be anything, but in the end, they have taken root in one place for a long time and slowly spread their lives, and it is not known.

As I grew older, my mother found that her desire to be ignorant had been imperceptibly affecting her, and to this day, my mother has a vague desire to travel all over the world, which is still vague. But if you start from the other side and imagine that you will always stay in one place, like your grandfather and grandfather, you will have a cold back and a cold sweat. To this day, my mother doesn't feel that my grandfather's life is what I want.

Some people live in place down-to-earth, and some people are birds that do not fall to the ground, wandering the world for a living. As the anchorage changes, life may be called something different at any time. If this were my life, one day we would also adapt to drifting, right?