Halfway through, I raised my thumb to hitch a ride. When he met a lewd driver, he seemed to want to reach out. Finally, I finally couldn't help but jump out of the car and run away. My mind was blank at the time. I had no choice but to run away.
I know I've been running away my whole life. It is to avoid the crowd, to avoid the world.
While I was on the edge of the cliff preparing the big tent to sleep. There is a house on the island below. Smoke was still rising from the chimney. I went down to find something to eat. At least ask the homeowner.
The first time I went there, there was no one there, there was a full line in the house, and there were opera records. I rested there, listening to Puccini. On the soft sofa, there is a small vegetable garden outside the house, presumably a self-sufficient life.
The second time went there because the food ran out and went there again. There was a middle-aged man there, and he said helping him with work in exchange for food. He said that since his wife died, no one has helped him with his vegetable garden. He said he might die in a dream.
I fell in love with him. His silence, but not the city's dialogue. We don't know each other's names. In the end, he chose to die, and I also chose to leave silently.
Winters in Europe are going to last for a long time, and I don't know when it will stop.
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