Amid the chirping of cicadas in late summer, a silent young man dragged his suitcase on wheels and transferred to another school. He thought he would always huddle in the shadows, until that person who was as warm as light crashed into his world. But my mother's illness tore apart the short-term warmth, and the decision to drop out of school was before me. Was this encounter a dream blown by the wind across an isolated island?
Concept: The lonely island will eventually meet its own light