My tears streaming down along the cheeks, mixed with October's drenching rain falls on the ground; I can not see the dark sky in the distance. Will the grass grow where the tears dropped? Will the memories and sadness blossom after seasons upon seasons?

I sat on the train back to the city. Outside of the rusty window was the heavy rain; dark sky, birds were not in view, the evergreen tress along the track kept swiftly moving backwards. Flows of rain flow down the window of the train, and then like an unwanted guest, penetrate into the car through the window at the junction of the leaf; October weather, the car is a dry place, people’s exhaled mist condenses into drops of water droplets on the glass of the windows just above the small table, mixing with the various items sitting precariously on the small white table.

Inside the car it is extremely crowded, narrow aisles filled with packed suitcases and people with languages so different, as it be mutually unintelligible, bustling from different places far and wide. My hand rubbed the wet glass windows, looking out at the blurred scenery, the rain is rather large, and little evergreen trees sway back and forth in the wind and rain; the train kept on its path, the occasional whistle echoed back and forth in the distant tunnel, proclaiming its intention to forge ahead.