That day, when I woke up, it was dark outside the window. This is a season when it is hot but also cool. Yaya sits on the edge of the bed, looking out the window at the gray that cannot be wiped away. It must have been a drizzle again last night.
When she returned to this city, she would often be in a trance. The so-called low reflexes were psychological rather than physical. Just like sunshine, no matter how hot the sunshine here is, it will never be clear. No matter how clear the sky here is, it won't make people intoxicated.
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A woman's story with no ending, incorporating a bunch of elements into the text, I hope there will be a follow-up
Intention: