If Love Were a Pot of Soup

Love in this world is like a pot of rich soup: it takes ingredients, the right amount of heat, and a pair of hands that control fate as they cook.

They bring men and women together, so those who need love and need to be loved can have a taste...

I want to begin writing a story. It will be a long one, full of longing and regret, about a man, about a love that left me wistful, about the self I lost between winter's end and the coming of spring.

That man has a pair of gentle eyes. When he looks at you, he is earnest and sincere, yet it's all too easy to lose yourself in him. One day, I happened to read a travel journal by a Japanese writer. He wrote of a spring at the foot of a mountain, still undiscovered by people, preserving its most primitive authenticity and serene clarity. Faced with such beauty, I couldn't help thinking of him, that man as clear and cool as spring water.