the steam and smoke of the train mysteriously disappearing
and the doodles waiting on the last page of the textbook
the imagination of time is so easy
only the direction of leaving is always uncertain
Silence is my eternal friend
it is the memories of childhood summers slowly drifting by
the moon and clouds quietly hiking across the sea
and my mother’s beautiful warm smile
the imagination of love is so easy
only the road back is always distant and long
— In the era when astronauts were landing on the Moon, the Shen’ao branch railway running along the coast beside my school still carried coal-burning steam trains. When I was a child, I often wondered: where did all that mysterious steam and smoke finally disappear to?
