Where is Home?

This, is somewhat a longer piece, translated…

When people inquired about his occupation, he’d loved to tell them that he’s a flying engineer.  Then, started to explain: at the earliest time in my career, I was once an engineer for Microsoft, at age thirty-seven, I’d retired and stared engineering the hardware.  As for what sort of engineering, it’s hard to tell it in just a couple of short sentences.  Right around the same time, I’d started to feel interested in gliding.  Starting after that, I’d begun combining my professional knowledge with my own area of interest.  What I do now, simply put: allowing humans to fly free like the birds, designing the equipments that allowed humans to do that.

If I have more time, or maybe when there’s a press conference, for instance, that time that he’d own the American championship gliding contest, he’d become even more enthusiastic in his explaining: back then, I’d gone to practice every single day, when the weather allowed for it.  Even though, it’s considered a sport, but, you don’t really need to use too much energy for it.  when you glide, you basically position your body like “Superman”, parallel to the earth, of course, you must have these two light wings on your arms.  Normally, I’d flown at one thousand miles to five or six hundred miles above sea level.  That, would be the most ideal heights, you get to see everything down below, the mountains, the rivers, and the cities too, and you need not worry that you might fly into something.

What it feels like?  No, definitely not like when you’re on an airplane, instead, it’s you who’s flying.  Yes, just like a bird, like the wings are all your own.  That, is definitely one amazingly unique experience.  It’s a level up for the body, the spirit, and physics.  Yes, it is kinda like spiritual awakening in a sense, but, it’s more real, and you’d feel shaken up more by it.

Adventure?  Did you say adventure?  No, it is a great amount of things, but, it’s not an adventure.

The rain in Taipei had come contiguously for three weeks now.  Gliding became absolutely impossible here.  Not only does Taipei not have a gliding range, even if it did, in this sort of weather, you just couldn’t do it.

He lay in bed, waking up, the first thing he’d heard was the rain.  Yes, didn’t he fall asleep, with the sound of the rain last night as well?  Outside the windows, it’s still dark, and the rain kept coming down, into the water tower of his building.

The couple from the opposite side, all of a sudden, started screaming—they must be husband and wife, and only husband and wife would argue so fiercely with one another like that.  He couldn’t make out the conversations, but gladly, this spat ended, quickly.  His mind drifted back to the problems with the rain.  He must’ve forgotten totally that the years he’d lived in Seattle, he’d only recalled how the dampness and the heat made him uncomfortable in Taipei, but he’d forgotten the rainy season here in the springtime, along with the rain that seemed to make everything moldy in the winters.  Even though, Seattle is known for its rain, but, it paled by comparison to Taipei’s rains.

The rain in Taipei, take, for example, this time, it was absolutely disorderly, it’d rained for days and nights, never ending.  There was only big and small rains, without pausing in between.  During the days, and into the nights, it just kept pouring down.

At this time, he lay in bed, wanted to make a good plan for his day, but, because of the rain, it’d ruined his mood completely; the moldiness, the dampness.  Other than putting up with it, what else can he do?  He’d discovered, that without gliding, he became like the rest of the faces in the crowd.

If the weather’s better, sunny and no rain, at least, he could still play some golf in Taipei.  And, at the club, he’d meet a couple of not-too-familiar golf buddies, and, he’d be able to strike up a pointless conversation with them, establish some sort of a connection, and, he could also manage to stretch his body a bit, to exercise, and, he could chase away the time, along with the loneliness that came with the time.  But the rain, it just wouldn’t stop falling, he could only face the computer and the television in the house.

In this place, supposedly called his “home,” he’d found himself to be all alone.  Wanted to find someone to go out to dine, or to carry on in conversation—whether it be new friends, old relatives, so long as it’s not a prospect—but, he’d searched through his mind, and, found nobody.  If he wanted a girlfriend, there are, a ton of single ladies who would worship him.  It’s just that after two failed marriages, his biggest fear is talking of marriage.  He just wanted someone, with whom, he could pass this boring and lonely time with is all.  As for those ladies who are in search of husbands, they’re even scarier than the loneliness that he is facing now.

He’d carried a grayed umbrella, walked through Da-An forest park, all the way to Yong-Kang Street.  Passed through the green pastures, the pond, and the bushes, he’d felt, that this light, drizzling rain had calmed the city down quite a bit, at least, he couldn’t hear any traffic from the park.  And because of the rain, there’s not that many people in the park, the Tai-Chi’s, the line dancers, the vendors, the children who are rowdy, running around, are all not there.  Everybody was with an umbrella, walking in the rain, making a space, specially for oneself, quarantining from everybody else.  And, he’d believed that the drizzling rain is helpful to him, it’s totally opposite of the blueness he’d felt, locked up inside of his place.  So, it’s not the problem with the rains then, instead, it’s the house where the problem lies, no matter how he’d modeled the place, the space that’s closed in by the four walls, you will get sick, or go crazy inside.

He’d picked a Shanghai shop, ordered up two servings of steamed buns, a dish of cold veggies, wolfed it up, but he’d still felt the hunger.

The man circled the globe, to find that place where he felt most at home it, revisited his place of origin, and, he’d died in an accident when he went gliding, doing what he loved, and, he’d found his home, in traveling the world.

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Filed under Life, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life

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