Three Seasons

About This Novel

I like summer, autumn, and winter, but I don't like spring, because spring is the season when all things come to life. I like sleeping on the desk under the noisy electric fan in the hot summer, the tinkling bell, the boy in white riding a bicycle, the innocent smiles on the children's faces, nibbling ice watermelon amidst the disturbing chirping of cicadas, sheltering in the shade of the corner of the tree, and the sunshine broken by the leaves... I like the withering of all things in autumn, the sound of the yellow leaves creaking under my feet, the bleakness of the autumn wind, and the unique sadness of autumn... I like the purity of winter, the flawless snowflakes, the white world, the hot sweet potatoes, the warm scarf, the other person's pocket, and the hands that can hold the old... I only hate spring. In my opinion, spring is the coldest time of the year. I hate the vitality of spring, its resurrection of all things, and I hate it to death.

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