"If one day I leave, will you still remember that I appeared in your life?"
Looking at your warm and relaxed smile, I fell silent.
"When days become old photos
Old photos become memories
We become passers-by walking back to back
no more rome
no more athens
There is no way back"
September read this passage over and over again, remembering that summer a boy said to himself melancholy, "If one day I leave, will you still remember that such a person appears in your life?"
Intention: