Before I was eighteen years old, I liked to sit on the overpass and watch the sunset. When the lonely bright yellow gradually dimmed, I would think of the night and then death.
At the age of nineteen, I had just attended a death banquet, and now I was walking on the streets at dusk with this man I had known for twenty-one days. The afterglow of the setting sun shone down on his thin body, and the shadows of the two of them on the ground were stretched very long.
It's so warm and the years are quiet.