Did you know that flowers in winter are white? Light, clear, indifferent, gray. In those passing days, you picked up a piece from the ground, stretched out your hand, raised it above your head, and waved to the sky.
I am standing next to you and watching you. Watching you naughtily crush the white flowers everywhere, making strange sounds, and then pick up a piece of crystal in a big ball of snow. The sunlight, whose body is invisible, slants down and shines on the crystal, shining brightly through the body.
The sun is not dazzling. I stared at it and narrowed my eyes slightly.
Those real, vivid, dim, and bright lights shot straight into the heart, lighting up the darkness that had been sleeping. In the hazy light, I saw the bright and enchanting red blood rushing towards me, quickly overwhelming all reason. Something, I saw and forgot, roared past my ears.
Conception: