旅行作家 A travel writer

Jane had returned to this small coastal town after years away, chasing stories as a travel writer.

2024.05.25

在一個破舊的海邊酒吧裡，微弱的燈光下，海浪撞擊岸邊的聲音幾乎淹沒了鋼琴的憂鬱音符。珍獨自坐在角落的桌子旁，她的眼神反射著外面暴風雨的海面。這模糊的影像似乎是一個刻意的藝術選擇，將焦點放在臉部的印象上，而不是清晰的細節。

珍在多年後回到了這個小海岸城鎮，她曾作為旅行作家追尋故事。每一個目的地都提供了逃避，一種由她訪問的地方塑造的新身份。然而，她內心的真實並沒有改變；那種不安，像慢性的疼痛，始終存在。

今晚，她回到了一切開始的地方，周圍是她過去的幽靈。現在的當地人，已經老去，仍然用同樣的節奏腔調交談，他們的對話是八卦和海的故事的混合。珍聽著，她的思緒飄到了她童年在這些沙灘上奔跑的日子。

當她啜飲著飲料時，門吱嘎一聲開了，一個她過去認識的人影走了進來。他的臉熟悉卻被這些年她未曾見證的歲月侵蝕。他們的目光相遇，在那模糊、懸停的瞬間，珍感受到了一種久違的情感——或許是那個曾經相信這裡一切皆有可能的小女孩的殘留感覺。

那人微微點頭，向她走來。“珍，你回來了，”他說，他的聲音是多年和潮汐的深沉迴響。

“是的，”她回答，聲音幾乎是耳語，“來尋找我認為留下的東西。”

他們一起交談，過去與現在模糊交織，當珍意識到她所尋找的或許一直在那裡，一直等待著，在她家鄉的迷霧海岸和低語的故事中。

In the dim light of a rundown seaside bar, the sound of waves crashing against the shore almost drowned out the melancholy notes of a piano. Jane, her eyes reflecting the stormy sea outside, sat alone at the corner table. The blurred edges of the world around her mirrored the uncertainty she felt within.

Jane had returned to this small coastal town after years away, chasing stories as a travel writer. Each destination had offered escape, a new identity shaped by the places she visited. Yet, nothing had truly changed inside her; the restlessness, like a chronic ache, persisted.

Tonight, she was back where it all began, surrounded by the ghosts of her past. The locals, now older, still spoke in the same rhythmic drawl, their conversations a mixture of gossip and tales of the sea. Jane listened, her mind drifting to her childhood spent running on these sandy beaches.

As she sipped her drink, the door creaked open, and a figure from her past walked in. His face was familiar, yet worn by years she hadn't witnessed. Their eyes met, and in that blurry, suspended moment, Jane felt a surge of something long forgotten—perhaps a remnant of the young girl who once believed everything was possible here.

The man nodded slightly and approached her. "Jane, you're back," he said, his voice a deep echo of years and tide.

"Yes," she replied, her voice barely a whisper, "to find something I think I left behind."

Together, they talked, the past blurring into the present, as Jane realized that what she sought might have been there all along, waiting amidst the misty shores and whispered stories of her hometown.

My Name is Jane.