Travel Thoughts (6) - Crawling in the Rain

I looked at these rows of residential buildings and suddenly felt suffocated. They were not comfortable homes, but cages and restraints. We are all pitiful caged birds, with our wings clipped. Why do these buildings look so ugly and ordinary? The appearance here is really terrible. It can be used to reminisce about the past, but that's the worst part. It can only be used to reminisce about the past, and it's a mess.
Someone is bouncing around in my mind, and the clown's lines keep echoing in my head. Now he is sitting on the chair on the stage of the studio, tilting his head and waving the gun, telling me, "The happiness and joy of the public are defined by the elite. You know that those are all deceptive lies. Why do you follow them? Why don't you join me in burning this city to ashes?" Yes, the clown has become Johnny Silverhand.
But they are all fictional characters, and happiness and joy cannot be explained in just a few words. It takes at least five to ten times the amount. This is also the experience of setting the number of particles in the particle swarm algorithm. We need to set five to ten times the number of particles in the original problem dimension, and then continuously experiment and adjust the parameters to obtain a fairly excellent solution if we are lucky, but we don't know if it is the optimal solution. But instead of doing this, why don't I use binary thinking to find the geometric center of the solution and always choose to go to the better side? This way is faster, and it's all gambling anyway, no difference.
I walked past rows of residential buildings, and now there is only a wetland park in front of me. This wetland park is the same as other wetland parks, with the same stone paths, wooden boardwalks, planned vegetation, and streetlights. It's a park with no creativity. I started to feel disappointed and questioned why I came here. The sound of car wheels quickly rolling on the asphalt road passed by my ears, and I saw the dim double yellow lines in the middle of the road. Why don't I just walk to the middle of the road when the traffic light is on and lie down on the double yellow lines, waiting for two trucks to pass by in opposite directions at the same speed, crushing my body into two halves? Then I can experiment to see if I will be reborn in another world or if each half of my body will be reborn in different worlds.
I shook my head and rejected the feasibility of this experiment because trucks are prohibited from passing through this road from 7 am to 7 pm. And I have troubles at work that I need to solve. After I finish wandering around, I must return to my life full of despair and problems. Otherwise, I would consider it a loss of my dignity, and I would become the loser that I hate the most. But then I thought, I am already here. I escaped from the troubles I faced because I couldn't bear the burden. I temporarily left the enclosed space that felt like hell. So I have already lost. Then why should I go back? Is it for a rematch?
I opened my umbrella and walked around the wetland park for a while, skipping over a black puddle. I looked around and felt bored. So I left this park with only rainwater. I felt that this trip was meaningless, and it would have been better if I hadn't gone out. But I didn't listen to myself. I continued to move forward, not knowing where to go. So at this moment, my upper body, lower body, and mind reached an independent agreement. My lower body became a two-legged mobile platform, continuing to move along the riverbank. My upper body started to rotate the umbrella and called upon my eyes to observe the centrifugal motion of the rainwater, notifying my brain to analyze whether centrifugal force is the same as centripetal force, recalling past knowledge of physics. My brain refused to analyze and believed that my lower body should stop walking, allowing the whole body to take off in an inverted position and fly into the sky, and then detach the arms as level-one thrusters when leaving the Earth's atmosphere. This way, I can fly away from the Earth and reach the end of the universe, where I can find answers to all my questions.
But that's not possible. It's just my dream. And what I discovered is not the answer, but the fact that the Earth is covered by a layer of high-dimensional stuff that looks like soil, and there is nothing outside. It's a sobering and terrifying fact. I woke up and still had to take the subway back to the screen full of pain and 99+ reminders, maybe I'm not suitable for this job, maybe I should leave. I should go on more long journeys, but in the end, I have to come back here. Or maybe during the long journey, the act of traveling itself will become something new, trapping me in a new kind of hell.
It was at this moment that I realized that it's not the job that is hell, it's me. Every time I go out, it's a death in my life, and then a new me, the same as the old me, resurrects from death. I am a decomposer, eating the remnants of my past self and becoming a producer after the transformation. At the moment I go out, I die, leaving my body to the next me. The next me has to eat to survive, and after eating, I become abnormal. After becoming abnormal, I die, and countless bodies of mine pile up. This complete ecological cycle is life. So I should fill in all the answers to the question "What role does humanity play in the ecological cycle?" with all the above answers, but there can only be one answer. It's really a shitty question, so I filled in "consumer."
As a consumer, I sat in a cafe, and the focus of my eyes shifted between the green plants by the window and the sky. Comparing my travel goals with those of others, comparing my purpose of sitting in the cafe with others, comparing my purpose of being alive with others, comparing my happiness and joy with others. But why do I compare? The change in the focus of my eyes can help me maintain some healthy vision, but comparing which vegetables are the best when buying groceries is a ridiculous thing. How can you compare when the standards are different? Should I just eat the cheapest one? But today, I just want to eat fruit because it's too hot. So, for the same reason and impulse, I climbed up a small hill by the roadside, soiling my pants and hands, and then peered at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by between the artificial forests. They couldn't see me, but I could see them clearly.
A primary school student passed by the roadside, and he didn't notice me. If he had noticed me, would he be like me when I was a child, always looking at the hill on the way home, hoping to see the red roof in the leaves of the trees? Maybe one day, he will climb this hill like me and squat in the same position, peering at all the pedestrians and vehicles passing by, and then meet the next primary school student. This cycle will continue until the destruction of the universe, until everything ceases to exist. Unfortunately, I don't have a coin in my hand; otherwise, I would definitely throw one here. This way, I would create a branch of destiny. This coin and my destiny, from then on, every death and rebirth, every cycle of life will correspond to the wear and dust of this coin.
I stared at an ordinary corner on the road, and my soul returned to the hill I had climbed in the past. Countless past selves overlapped on the hill and the road. I saw many past selves finding the faded pavilion with the red roof on the hill and looking down from that pavilion at the countless selves on the pedestrian path. The gaze of the past selves now returned to me, silently questioning me, questioning themselves, questioning the meaning of this action, and doubting whether it is a rolling stone.
My thoughts began to expand with the wind. I started to pursue the reason that I had never been aware of. Then, on a certain evening sitting in a chair, the wind blew on my face and ran to me. I woke up from the dream of the ecological cycle of life and death. I broke free from the clown and the story of 2077. The drifting me landed on the ground at this moment. I discovered everything in front of me and remembered many things from the past. Countless versions of myself were connected by a timeline that I had never seen before. It's not a rolling stone, but a mixture of escape, pursuit, and the blending of various aspects of life that has turned into the appearance of a rolling stone. But it's not a rolling stone, just like the fact that everything will return to nothingness and the fact that nothing has meaning are two different things.
Fear and anxiety were dispelled at this moment. I picked up the desire for adventure and encounters that I had never realized before, and on a certain night, the wind blew on my face. It was like picking up a stick, and I took off like a rocket, breaking through the atmosphere, breaking the terrifying high-dimensional soil, and rushing to the end of the universe, seeking the unknown.