尋找自我認同的都市女性 An urban woman seeking self-identity-Jane

In the midst of a misty cityscape, an urban woman stands by a large window on the 23rd floor of an old building.

2024.02.16

在城市的低語中，建築物隱含著秘密的鳴響，珍在她存在的模糊界限中找到了慰藉。生活，就像她被雨水打濕的窗戶所見的景象，從不清晰，總是被不確定性和半遺忘的夢想無情地弄得模糊不清。

她住在一間老公寓裡，這裡既有懷舊的魅力又帶著破舊的忽略，牆壁是用剝落的油漆和褪色的壁紙拼湊起來的故事。窗戶，一個大而樸素的玻璃板，俯瞰著城市的中心，那裡日常生活的混亂繪製了一幅複雜得讓眼睛無法完全把握的圖畫。

特別是在那天，霧氣滾滾而來，像厚厚的白毯將世界覆蓋，把城市隱藏在下面。從她23樓的窗戶看去，除了一片迷霧的海洋，什麼也看不見。就好像一切都暫停了，連空氣都在屏息，等待著某個東西，或者某個人。

珍將手掌貼在涼爽的玻璃上，用指尖追蹤著凝結的水珠。她寫下她的名字「珍」，然後觀察它如何迅速消失，水分再次宣稱其領土。這是一個短暫的占有，一個在不斷變化的世界上短暫的標記，就像她在生活中的躊躇步伐。

但今天，珍決定，會有所不同。她會擁抱那些模糊的邊緣，在未定之中找到美。她穿上外套，布料像老朋友一樣親膚，然後打開公寓的門。走廊通常迴盪著鄰居的腳步聲，現在卻寂靜無聲，好像霧氣已經滲透進來，壓抑了平常的喧囂。

她下了樓梯，推開大樓沉重的前門，踏入霧中。霧氣包圍了她，宇宙的柔和擁抱。她走著，步伐堅定，心情輕盈。城市可能被隱藏了，但珍終於看清楚了，她的路徑不是被刺眼的鮮明線條照亮，而是由不確定性的溫柔指引照亮。

於是，珍漫步在霧中，迷失又發現，每一步都在展開一個故事，她的名字在城市高聳的巨人之間默默地低語，提醒著即使在一個看似不清楚的世界中，人仍然可以留下自己的痕跡。

In the whispers of the city, where the buildings hummed with secrets, Jane found solace in the blurred lines of her existence. Life, much like the view from her rain-streaked window, was never clear, always smudged by the relentless drizzle of uncertainties and half-forgotten dreams.

She lived in an old apartment that bordered on the edge of nostalgic charm and decrepit neglect, its walls a patchwork of stories told in peeling paint and faded wallpapers. The window, a large, unadorned pane, looked out to the city's heart, where the chaos of daily routines painted a picture too complex for the eye to hold.

On that particular day, the fog had rolled in thick, a blanket of white that turned the world into a hazy canvas. From her window on the 23rd floor, Jane could see nothing but a sea of mist, the city hidden beneath. It was as if everything had paused, the very air holding its breath, waiting for something, or perhaps, someone.

Jane pressed her palm against the cool glass, tracing the condensation with her fingertips. She wrote her name, "Jane," and watched as it quickly faded away, the moisture reclaiming its territory. It was a momentary claim, a fleeting mark on a world that was constantly shifting, much like her own tentative steps through life.

But today, Jane decided, would be different. She would embrace the blurred edges, find beauty in the undefined. She pulled on her coat, the fabric feeling like an old friend against her skin, and opened the door to her apartment. The hallway, usually echoing with the footsteps of her neighbors, was silent, as if the fog had seeped inside, muting the usual cacophony.

Down the stairs and out the building's heavy front door, Jane stepped into the mist. It enveloped her, a soft embrace from the universe. She walked, her steps confident, her heart light. The city may have been hidden, but Jane was finally seeing clearly, her path illuminated not by the starkness of harsh lines, but by the gentle guide of uncertainty.

And so, Jane wandered, lost and found in the fog, a story unfolding with each step, her name a silent whisper among the towering giants of the city, a reminder that even in a world that seemed indistinct, one could still make their mark.

My Name is Jane.