The Book of Fantastical Tales

What lingers in the deepest reaches of memory is always something elusive. No matter how dazzling he once was, no matter how much he drew the eye, in the end he still disappeared into fragments of memory without a trace. It’s like loving a girl, then, many years later, catching the unique scent of her perfume in a crowded street. You turn around in shock, only to see the backs of countless passersby. Only then do you suddenly realize that the person who just brushed past you really was her. Yet even if you stood face-to-face now, you might not recognize the person she has become. She is just a traveler in your world, someone passing through.

In youth, the breeze accompanied the morning sun. Back then, I thought it was... nothing out of the ordinary.

I dedicate this book to my youth, and to the youth I imagined countless times.