my mothers mothers mothers mother

After staying here a few times, I realized that this place is surrounded by a thin membrane.

I always look into the distance 

and the distant view is always blurry.

After becoming aware the membrane, I stopped looking into the far distance and started looking at the membrane.

It is a milky white color sometimes thin and almost transparent and sometimes thick and opaque. And it seems to be moving slowly.

At one point, I bumped into the membrane, but

I could barely feel its touch. 

The membrane blended with the temperature of the place, becoming one with the temperature of my skin, and soon became imperceptible.

The membrane was soft and ungraspable. Like the skin on milk.

We were getting so used to the membrane that before we knew it, we became one with it.

My mother's mother's mother's mother,

between giving birth and being born.

The family tree inside me

sounds like footsteps, 

echoing through the world,

which doesn't have a surname

no one has ever spoken of.

Jumping in the lake,

I see her face.