A long time later, when I stood on top of Zora again, a picture could not help but emerge in my mind.
The young man turned around slowly. Under his thin and soft bangs, there was a pair of large sunken eyes with foreign characteristics. The long eyelashes covered his beautiful amber pupils. His eyes were misty, as if the fog in the forest had accumulated all year round, and he looked lonely and empty into the distance. The petals of the cherry blossom tree next to me were blown off and fell gracefully, as if it was raining.
____________________________ He called me in a low voice, his voice sad and hoarse, like a bell from a distant heaven: "Cyril, is it you? Are you finally willing to come back to me?"