In 1968, a young woman from Gansu went to Xinjiang, hoping to break free from the shackles of fate, but instead fell into another depressing marriage. The endless disputes in the family consume the lives of two people. She quietly sent her son, who loved painting, back to his hometown in Gansu. My son studied hard in the cold window, and his education and future were repeatedly blocked. The pain left in his childhood quietly shaped his character for the rest of his life.
The third generation "I" grew up in a repressive family atmosphere, and all I wanted to do was get into college and move away. Until my grandma passed away, she left a last wish: not to be buried with her wife after her death, but her ashes should be buried in her hometown in Gansu. An earthen tomb without inscriptions hides the wandering life of a generation.
Three generations are trying to escape their fate. My grandmother rushed to the distance, my father expressed his love for me in writing, and "I" rushed to the campus. But the marks left by those years have long been integrated into the blood. What is "in the mouth"? It is never a place name, but a nostalgia and past that is engraved in the bones and blood of a generation and can be difficult to get rid of throughout life.
Intention: Escape is instinct, turning back is courage