Hidden in the folds of time are unfaded whispers and unfinished journeys. When the hustle and bustle of summer quietly fell silent, the teenagers wrote down the promises that had been shattered by the wind, turning the light of the past into fireflies that led the way, weaving a bridge across time between the pages of the book.
Intention: Thousands of whispers are scattered by the wind, and the fireflies are always bright accompanying the sound of books.