My eldest brother-in-law went to Shanghai. As he left in a hurry, he handed me the key and card of the door before leaving and asked me to help him check out. After work, it is already 6 o’clock in the afternoon. I came to the room where he lived. Most of the things in the room were moved to the place where I lived, and only some discarded things were left in disorder. I called the landlord and explained the reason. The landlord came soon. He opened the account book and handed over the remaining rent to me after a while of accounting. At this time, a neighbor who lived next door heard that his eldest brother-in-law was leaving, and told me to give her the assembled wardrobe in the room. I nodded and agreed, while the landlord’s wife took away a pair of new socks turned out from the bedroom and several apples left on the table. I said it doesn’t matter. You can see what you need. Take it together. Anyway, I won’t take anything. When I left, the landlord’s wife told me in Mandarin with Xiamen accent that your brother-in-law had lived here for several years, and now he said he would leave, yesterday I saw him moving things. I asked him if he wanted to leave. He said no. I said that the migrant workers who went out were like this. They were forced by life and traveled around, which was really out of helplessness. On the way back, I suddenly remembered a poem written by Ji Bolun: If I live, there will be some in my residence; If I go, there will be some in my residence. Yes, even if we settle down, our ambition is still far away, our heart is still pursuing dreams, and in the wandering journey, we live in our dreams, live in our spiritual home. The invisible house can be carried with me and accompany me to travel around the world. Although it can not protect me from the wind and rain, it can make me have a sense of belonging after struggling; While the visible house can cover my body, but it is also like a cage, trapped the whole life of people like landlords who live by renting houses and do nothing all day long! Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the 30th year of my WeChat era

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