After learning that people always live toward death, I used to panic about the uncontrollable passage of time. I thought that I could get rid of it by following the guidance of the elders and embark on a bright path.
I thought that every inevitable turning point was undeniably urgent and could not be neglected, so I quickened my pace and tried to leave everything that was out of my sight behind.
I seem to be born with the tendency to get bored with the things I usually do. After a while, I didn't want to speed up my pace anymore, because the perfunctory feedback of time on what I did became more and more visible to the naked eye.
Finally, I, who had never suspected that I was on the wrong path before, began to have an uncontrollable curiosity and desire for what might be waiting for me at the end of the road.
After I had no choice but to stop, I saw a tree on the side of the road, with lush branches and leaves covering the lights underneath. Part of it was as dark and deep as the sky, part of it was as bright and clear as the feet, and part of it was the leaves that penetrated the light, reflecting veins as crystal clear as emeralds.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
