He spends his life in his mother’s suitcase

He spends his life in his mother’s suitcase.
He doesn’t know he has father.
Or I should say, he doesn’t know what the meaning of father is.
Sometimes mother told him, I plucked a “ father” on road.
He pictured the “father” a thing growing up on the road, staying there and keeping silence.
“Mother, what is pluck?” He asked, “Pluck is to take a small part from a whole, such as plucking a flower from a plant” mother answered, “What is flower? What is plant?”
“ I forget you’ve never seen a plant or a flower. For example, if I were a plant and you would be a flower. You were part of me before you were born.

“ I got it. What kind of finger plucks me off you?

Mother only use one kind of perfume, so he believes there is one kind of smell of perfume. He can’t imagine other kind of smell. When he smells himself, he wonders he has two bodies or two souls.

He spends his life in his mother’s suitcase.
Suitcase contains all of his understanding of the world.
Even bigger, like his mother’s bedroom (his mother never walks out the room).
Mother only spends few seconds to walk from this side to other side of the world.
The world is a small place, and has two things—him and his mother, a plant and a flower.
If there are other things, they must be a thing with four eyes and eight legs.

Every time the suitcase opens, he sees mother’s smile.
He doesn’t know there is a word called “sad “in the world.