Start of winter. Light snow. Heavy snow. Then comes the winter solstice. Time passes, and no one remembers whether birds ever left their traces in the sky. It was all in vain, nothing but an illusion.
What was seen can no longer be seen. The first snow flutters freely through the air, landing in the palm of your hand before vanishing without a trace. What was said can no longer be said. It was supposed to be a performance for two, but one has left. What is the one left behind supposed to do?
I love you.
Those were the words he never managed to say.
But it doesn’t matter anymore.
Premise:
