Look—the visible trembling of that carriage is like a column of life’s synapses. Every time I step onto this familiar yet ever-changing train, it’s like moving through the intimate but unknown transitions between miniature worlds. It’s both absurd and reassuring that so many people, heading to completely different destinations, ride the same train as me. What a random event—and this is exactly the daily life of this spinning city. The crowd pouring in brings the slightly monotonous carriage back to life again. The seats receive your quiet murmuring and mine; you watch your reflection in the window—does your silhouette feel somehow adrift? Ah, time to transfer. Come on, the next world has arrived. Have you ever thought that everything here is nothing but an interlude washed in color? Do you think it matters? Do you think the act of riding itself matters? If I could, I’d hope the final stop would never come. I love this feeling. Look—a flowing collage of a miniature city, and everyone in it is poetic, don’t you think? Just then another train cuts across my field of vision, taking with it many unfamiliar echoes. I never imagined I’d be that close to you—if not for the accordion’s breath and the full moon appearing that night with such coincidence. At that moment, I thought, this scene probably needs no lyrics—but you said it anyway, that sentence that made the buildings here resound. The rain above your head quietly froze…ah, I’ve arrived. How brief—like that unforgettable song. Alright, alright. This is enough. Bye then, see you later.
Then the static comes in.