When You Pass by a Flower Room, I Am the Person You Turn Around and Forget.

The butterfly with broken wings wanders near the water, licking the kisses in its fantasy world and guarding the love among the flowers; The blinded moth holds up the fire in confusion, embraces the broken dream under its struggle, and shines with its lingering attachment. Love is a taste; Love is a mist. Lost in one temptation after another under the reinforced concrete, it only teaches life and death.