Received SMS from Zhuo, on her train back to her home town.

Feel the same way that she does, when our talk floated into the fantacies of roaming in an almost entirely unknown place. 
What if we are free without limits? What if I am traveling on my own?

Get off!Get off the train! said a voice from the bottom of my heart-a voice quelled for years since I departed from my childhood. The train never stopped for me, whereas my heart does stopped for some sceneries outside the train window-or shall I say, that what actually stopped me is not what I see, but what vague frames that I deemed could be seen.

We are standing amid the choice between rushing home and roaming home.

You choose to rush but we choose to roam.

Hometown is neither a familiar dwelling block nor a entirely unknown destination for me. Yet whenever my thoughts rest upon the hometown, I feel a flash of doubt ( joyful while depressing flash) , of the doubt that do I really belong here.

Such doubt, though ambiguous and ambivalent, resounds beside my ears and the curious sound it made is not so unpleasant as for me to enrage myself. Paradoxically, the doubt is something I need, for the very thought of it engenders me to fall into another chain of thinking activities to argue with myself what it means by naming a hometown,

With the agreeable doubt and thought-provoking curiosity upon its existence, I've restrained from rushing, and have taken a journey of roaming, though I'm never ever truly there.