He was dressed in red and sitting quietly on the beach. He was obviously very young, but his hair was white. I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was crying, the kind of silent cry that came from the bottom of his heart.
"What are you crying for?" I asked him. I was curious and eager to know why, and to understand why his sadness made me feel the same.
He shook his head gently, stretched out two hands to cover his heart, the upper one was as soft as jade, and the lower one was already rugged with bones.
I was so scared that I took a step back.
"You think it's ugly too, don't you?" His voice was clear and moving, like the best music in the world.
"Oh, it's not... It's not..." I was a little speechless and didn't know what to say.
He looked up at me. I still couldn't see his face clearly, but I clearly knew that those deep eyes were very familiar. They were as deep as a lake, slowly soaked with tears. The red ones were blood.
I also started to cry, and the tears rolled down my lips. They were salty and had a fishy smell.