In the winter of the 17th year of the Republic of China, I was sitting on a train from Shanghai to Hangzhou. The dead trees outside the window receded one by one, like old memories that were forced to say goodbye to me. The wheels of the train rolled over the rails and made a long "clang" sound, as if a decision had been made for me - I have been away from Europe for three years, and the first thing I do when I return home is to meet my husband and tell him: We are done here.
