This is a small book about "love". It is as thin as the trace left by a gust of wind blowing across the heart.
The book is called "Love is My Life". It was a bit hot to say it for the first time, but later I found out that it's not that serious in fact - whether love is a part of life or all of it, there is no need to have a standard answer for everything in life anyway.
The words inside come from my scattered moments in the past few years: one afternoon when the sunshine happened to suddenly remind me of a person's smile, one time when I was in a daze and I realized "Hey, I don't seem to miss him that much", one morning I woke up and found that the trees outside the window were incredibly green, and I felt inexplicable. They are scattered in time, out of order and unreasonable, just like the mood itself.
I write this not to prove anything, nor to compile a "history of sadness." Quite the opposite - because I find that those moments that make me raise the corners of my mouth and feel a little disappointed are quite cute. Heartbeat is lovely, and loss is also lovely. Seriously liking someone is a shining thing in itself. It is not embarrassing, not pretentious, and does not require apology.
So this book is more like a person who picked up a beautiful pebble on the roadside, bent down to pick it up, wiped the dust off, put it in the palm of your hand and said: "Look, this is quite beautiful."
If you open it, I hope you will smile knowingly and say softly: Oh, me too.
That's enough.
Intention: To love sincerely is the greatest respect for life.