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    More Than an Island

    A place, or a home I amlonging to go back might be near the coast. The wet sand was soaked in water,the cleanly wind with special strong smell coming from the sea, the gleam ofthe distant ocean… … I desire for all of them. I have a beautiful dream that theremust be a tiny wooden house with a big window facing the sea, several dogs andcats licking my cheek when I get depressed, and no one will be here except forme.

    In the morning, I wake up withmy dogs and then bath in the torrent of sunlight pouring down upon me from theopen window. I climb over the window without shoes, feeling the soft sand undermy feet. My dogs plunge into the sea and I follow them without pajamas. I findthe cold water gently holding me in its soft arms, so strongly and peacefully.Gradually, the water gets warm with the sun, and I’m like an unborn baby in mymother’s womb. Nothing to bear in mind, nothing to worry about and nothing tobe afraid of.

    In the noon, I set aboutfixing my log cabin which has already suffered from a harsh rainstorm. I put onmy working cap and climb onto the roof with my toolkit. When I am busy inrepairing, my cats are either sitting or standing beside me and watching theirowner working. Before long, I get finished and lie on the roof with the hatcovering my face, which is able to prevent my face from being sunburnt. Withthe comfortable and warm sun, I fall asleep in a short time and have a dream,in which I am laughing and talking with someone else, and I live in a world crowdedwith a variety of people. People, people, people… … everywhere I can comeacross people.

    In the evening, I stroll alongthe beach feeling the gentle waves wash over my feet. My dogs are running,howling and playing in front. Walking with the sand between my toes as the sungoes down, I feel part of the universe, even if only a minuscule one, is like agrain of sand on the beach. Suddenly, I start to worry about myself who isliving in the world I have dreamed earlier in the day. Does she really want totalk with those people? Are there really something making her laugh? “Are youreally happy?” I ask myself.

    I am the only person in mylittle world, and everybody is the only person in their own little world. Thereare always people complaining that everyone has such an extreme spirit. Theydon’t know it’s extreme because it is in their heads, that most solitary place.When a person’s behavior has tormented you, and then you have to make a choicewhether you should say it out. However, most of people will choose to tolerateit because they think maybe they are too sensitive and count on the person tostop it next time. Again and again, when the patience has run out, the mindwill take an action driven by fury to let people know itself. And then therewill be people coming out to attack you for your acute behavior, and you are inno position to argue for yourself. Being hurt and irritated, you desire toleave the world and keep away from those people. You get an impulse to escape homeyou are longing to go back and live your own life in your little world.

    I don’t know if you have everexperienced that. I write it down because I wish those who have been encounteringthe situation can snap out of it after realizing that there are always somepeople empathizing with those people. Everyone of us is an island above theocean surface, but most of us are supposed to be connected with each otherunder the sea. We can’t get to understand each other completely, and theso-called “empathy” just comes from one’s own experiences. Do not be upset whenyou find it seems that people around you can’t empathize with you very well,because each of us is more than an island.

    Editor: Wei Xiaoyi

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