Recalling the past and lamenting the years, I realize the unruly youth, the unbridled youth, the brilliance of youth... However, no matter how wonderful the story, no matter how jumpy the plot, no matter how colorful the description, it will all be indifferent and no waves will be made. What is left behind is endless memories, recalling the youth, the once young heart.
The past years seem like yesterday, and the years and youth have long gone. That flamboyance has been silenced without knowing when, that frivolousness has surrendered without knowing when, and that wantonness has been restrained without knowing when. This arrogance, this frivolity, this debauchery, have they disappeared on their own, or have they been thrown away*. No, it is not, it is the time that has changed them with a carving knife, and it is life that has changed them with a long hammer. At this point, an ordinary and long life is passing quietly.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
