In my gradually fragmented memory, I tried to catch that figure.
The figure with its back to the light drags a long darkness, like that cold and long night many years ago. The air is filled with the smell of gunpowder and blood, and the dim light of the morning light cuts out the reflection of hope on the devastated horizon. All the scenes in my mind quickly eroded and blurred, pouring all over the place like honey chewed by ants. However, in the last few seconds when the light of life was about to cool down, I could still remember every word you said to me.
It's as natural as breathing without thinking, as if you are still with me.