There are always some tourists on the road to home

On the good morning, the sun was shining into the only 15 square meters of rented house through the windows (D3 Gold). It is a kind of comfortable taste in the early winter.

After I packed things, I glanced at my struggle years for the last time. And then, I started my journey to home.

The sweat and smoke are in the dense interweaving in the carriage. I didn't confuse the war against each other. The people from different places were talking about all kinds of news. All things no matter it is big or small all can become journey sauce in this tiny and cramped space. I often can see such scene. The people who can talk most is always the old man. They dressed a not glamorous gown and held a half of the cigarette. During the smoke we could see a pair of vicissitudes eyes.

The world is so big and there are so many Chinese drift. They may not be successful, but they can walk to north and south. It is worth in this life. I only throw my envious eyes to them.

The roar of the train called bright in my ear. The scenery outside the window is as sitting at the time of the high speed train, it wandered back quickly. We can see bare mountain from the distance. There was only one lonely tree. At this moment it was so quiet. There is not so much intrigue and merits between right and wrong. We are the corn in the sea and no one knew we had come and no one can know we leave.

The train stopped at the station. The people got off.  We ever drove the pace of restless to come to the world. . Not for other, we just want to experience the frustrations of world.

When I picked up the phone and looked at the full contacts. I suddenly found the telephone book was saved an amazing number. I walked on the familiar street of my hometown. The familiar taste is like many years of aged wine. It is powerful and kind. When I open the door, I yelled, "dad and mom. I'm home!"