When I was fourteen years old, I saw her as a teenager, sitting quietly in a corner of the piano room, playing Bach's Valse under her fingertips. The long melody made people laugh.
When I saw her again at the age of sixteen, she had straight bangs and was wearing a blue school uniform, shining in the spring sunshine. He often laughed wildly and laughed at the boys who were punished for standing in class.
When I was eighteen years old, I looked vaguely at the boyish back. She had cut her hair and had boyish short hair. She wore thick glasses frames that covered her delicate eyes, and her face was expressionless.
At the age of twenty, she could sit alone on the lover's slope of the school and watch a complete sunset, drink fruit tea, blow the warmest evening breeze in summer, and feel the pulse of life with her eyes closed.
I was thinking, can I talk to you properly this time? Maybe at a certain moment of encounter, I should have the courage, but I couldn't make any sound...
In the limited time, I hope you can remember me, even just a little bit. But. You are still so cruel to me.
If we really meet, you will think that we are strangers.
Time keeps stopping, and I am outside the timeline, waiting to meet you again.
Concept: the dialectical relationship between contradictory universality and particularity