I jumped on the last step of the last train, at the last second of its departure. I left my city without bidding farewell, and the city didn't seem to care.

The train was going to the south; conductor punched my ticket, and I settled in a corner of the car, amidst someone's luggage and a wall.

The car was full of people of every background you could find back in the city: workers, teachers, doctors, clerks, artists and traders. They were sitting, standing, hanging. All of them had lives that they were leaving; all of them had their reasons to be on the train. I had mine as well. In my hands was a picture of a mountain looming in the white haze.

Pounding wheels carried us along the steel tracks, familiar landscapes were passing by behind the windows. I sat on the floor in my corner, my backpack beneath me, wooden suitcase on the left, bench with luggage underneath in front of me, unmovable wall on the right. I did not mind my discomforting position. It was all for a cause, and I was ready to endure.

I had no regrets leaving. People in the car did though. Many were crying, some were lamenting, very few were still, silent and calm, but with grim face. They were running away. I was running as well, but not away – I was running 'to'. So, at least, I thought to myself.

Behind the wooden suitcase on the left of me there was a bulky bold man in grey coat. He seemed to be alone, yet he was constantly talking to somebody. It soon became clear, that he was talking to no one in particular, and since we both were on the floor – below the line of focus of most people – shortly he concentrated on talking to me.

“Calamity always comes unannounced. That is the law of nature. Nothing to do with it. What can we do? Only obey. Or run. Running is tough, though. Especially when you're alone. Are you alone?” he asked me suddenly.

I said I was.

“This is tough, very tough. When you come to a new place, you're like a child. You get born again. You look for your mother, for somebody to attend, but there's nobody. You're like a child, but this time you're all on your own. Is your mother alive?”

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I said she wasn't.

“That's too bad. No mother there, no mother here. This is very tough. Very, very... Oh, god, how I want to be back with my family.”

The conversation did not strike me as interesting. I sat pressed into the wall, looking at the picture. I had my purpose; I had my change cloth, underwear, toothbrush, snacks and a little bit of money. I did not need nothing else. So I thought to myself.

The man sat quiet for some time, and then started talking again.

“I have a friend in Italy. He's well set, I could go there if I wanted. But I didn't. I actually can find any job in Europe any time with my experience, even without friends. But I never did. I wanted to, but I thought about my family. I wanted to be useful back home. Now, here I am, going to the South, where I do not want to be. What does it tell us? Maybe sometimes it is better to listen to the clues. Maybe sometimes one should listen to his desires? Do you have desires, young man?”

I was leaning to the wall, pretending to be asleep. He didn't seem to notice, continuing with his babble, which did not spark a single bit of interest in me. He kept on talking, and I kept on pretending to be asleep, and eventually I, unexpectedly for myself, did fall asleep.

I saw a dream, the one that I'd been seeing since my very early childhood. It was about me running away. I used to run away from a lot of things, and quiet many of those escapes used to end in this place – on the brink of a cliff above black raging sea. This was the place, where I used to have to make a choice: jump, or be swallowed by whatever I'd been running away from. I never managed to make any choice and just woke up.

This time it was different. Somehow, I did not feel like I was running from something. In fact, there was no fear at all. The sea was rough, but not rageful. The sky was cloudy, but not black. The abyss below was still scary, waves were hitting stones with 'booms' and splatter, but I looked at it calmly.

“Well then,” I thought to myself in the dream. “If that's the way my brain conceptualizes it... so be it.”

I thought that I should jump in. I walked further away from the brink to make a good run, when suddenly my feeling changed. The sky above got back to black, the sea was becoming more and more rowdy. I turned around and saw lead-grey void coming for me from behind the horizon.

“What is it? Do I now have to jump?”

My heart squeezed in as if signalling about the answer. There was no time for contemplating – I had to make the choice, and the choice was obvious. I went ahead, making a big, wide leap one time, two time and last time – off I went into the void, dark uncharted waters looming beneath me, air wishing past me. And at that moment, just when my feet were expecting to touch the earth again but didn't, my heart exploded in my chest, and a question pierced my brain almost like a needle: haven't I made a mistake?

I winced and sat up in my corner. It was night, the train was riding on, most people in the car were already asleep. The man on the left was absent; I used that opportunity to get out of my corner and reach bathroom. Having done my stuff there, I returned back and rearranged myself and fell asleep again – this time without seeing vivid dreams.