A farewell kiss and a diary stained with the fragrance of roses serve as the ultimate sacrifice. Samurt, on the other hand, drank a bottle of poison called "perception" - the past burst out of his chest like thorns, and the torrent of memories carried heartbreaking pain and love, completely drowning him.
The night was gentle, swallowing up the sunset. The sea breeze blew the young man's black hair a little messy. The cry of seagulls passed his ears from time to time. He watched the coastline disappear.
From now on, his poetry no longer needs to steal other people's souls.
He is going to find his own life, which is his own poetic life and Branwen's poetic life.
On a full-moon night, only the lonely soul with no destination hates the silver glow - it illuminates sins but never offers salvation.
Intention: Facing pain on the ruins of nothingness, embracing love and memory