The Playground Galaxy

The entrance to the park says “Children’s admission is 20 yuan, adults are free to accompany”.

Alone, I am without a child, so it would be strange to go in. In the midst of the noisy crowd, I caught a glimpse of a young boy, like a police officer on patrol in a downtown area, aimlessly. I held out five fingers in front of him, then clenched my fist all at once and said, “I’ve got your eye.”

The kid was so anxious that he chased me to the entrance of the amusement park.

“I can give you back your eyes, but you have to ride this little train with me.”

The boy stopped his tears as if he had been forgiven again after being scolded by his parents. I took his hand and rode the train together. The train in the darkness of the night seems like a galaxy in the vast universe, which is a mood of wanting to drink Coke. Surrounded by fireflies like points of light, they do not need words to form a group, converging on each other, as if it is not the karma, but we then choose each other’s place in the world. In the moment of touching with the fireflies, my eyes were like looking at a thousand miles, and I caught a glimpse of my future afterlife, which was fragmented but smelled like a dream.

In my first life, after my death and rebirth, I witnessed a dictator ordering the construction of a magnificent palace of freedom in Peking: there was the sacred river Alf, flowing

from the depths of unfathomable caves into the unseen sea. Thirty miles of fertile land were walled and countless buildings were built, and there were gardens where the water glistened and sparkled, and where the trees were planted and fragrant. The old forest, which was the same age as the mountains, hid a green meadow, and the green grass was covered with sunlight. But all these belong to the dictator. However an arrow took away his eyes between expedition and war. ’Although I built the palace, I will never see it. ’ In order to vent his anger, the dictator killed a person everyday and buried them under soil of the palace. ‘Let me be your eyes.’ I sacrificed my freedom for the elimination of disaster.

In the second life, I bought a ticket to the universe under the brilliant night sky of the starry night. The train started with a rumble, and the whistle sounded with the flashing of the stars. The track was not cast in iron, but a small bird built into it, stretching into the deep darkness of the night sky. When I looked closely, I saw that it was not a finch, but a hydrogen fusion star, faint and bright under the distant wheels. This train ended at the North Pole of the universe, and I arrived at the station, got off, and shook hands and hugged the penguins here affectionately.

In my third life, I woke up in a remote corner of Kyoto, where wartime rhetoric and shortages of supplies had made life difficult, but fortunately he and I were finally sharing a bed. I took his hand, but strolled down the street like a lost lamb,

surprised to find a huge, glowing object falling ahead of me, an ancient temple. The street was swarming with cars and horses, the sky was glowing, the clouds were tinged with the magnificent gold of the sunset, but the road was abnormally hot, and we were greeted by a sea of fire.

20-yuan train stopped. We walked out of the park and saw the parents of the child, I let him go. That day, it was a very windy day, and their shouting dissolved in the wind.