To me, he is as beautiful as those years. He is the first love in my life, but it is a pity that I missed it before I understood it. Young love has no confession, no promise, and no commemoration. It is like a flower in the season. It has bloomed and naturally withered, as if it had never appeared. Time never gives people a chance to linger, and so does fate, which does not allow the beauty and softness of the connection to be broken. We can only be grateful for the arrangement of fate, because there is such a person, so lovely, so beautiful. We met in the best time and walked through a long happy time together. We are already very lucky, aren't we?
Conception: