Paris

Sitting on the train gazing at the blue sky, which is rare in Beijing, I started to feel undoubtedly comfortable. Oh my old sweet nosey Europe, I'm back again. A German guy was angrily talking on his phone while a Parisian was looking out of the window with a smile on her face with African french guys behind her checking on their phones laughing. The windows are graffitied, the seats are dirty, and the train is chugging. With a rythm, they are composing a tune of Europe. At that moment, a smell of dove spray spread into the aroma inside the RER train. My nerve perked up. This is the smell from that giant house in Manchester. Kalps always put it on her hair. It was a smell with molecules dropping into that grey carpet, on my cloth, into my nose and stick to my memories. Life in England flashed in front of my eyes. I was so scared of forgetting what happened in the past 3 years. But I understand now, everything you experienced grows into you, constructs who you are. And it will never leave you. It's always there, waiting for you to reveal, at the right time, in the right place. I felt so glad this is the truth and I'm not afraid to go back home anymore.