The separation in the late summer when I was 12 years old, and the reunion in the early autumn of my sophomore year in high school were still under the familiar sycamore tree.
It seems like nothing has changed, nothing has happened
They played together like they did when they were children, talking about everything, but that heartbeat had quietly sprouted long ago, as early as the shadow of the sycamore tree.
Concept: Beautiful campus time, the bud of youth