I am too keen on memories, and I have to rely on them all the time in order to keep a low profile in this world where flowers are becoming more and more charming. Memories are like dust in nooks and crannies, unintentionally messed with, but they are born because of you, and you rely on them to survive well. You never imagined that it would be the sword of Damocles hanging over your head, but it is lucky enough to anesthetize you, then wither you, and finally end you...
A mountain can't separate two people from missing each other, and the end of the world can't separate them from being speechless.