Perhaps because of my grandfather, I also fell in love with the dreamy blue hyacinth. The hyacinth under the shadow of the fence reveals the sadness of a beautiful boy in the west wind. I seemed to see circles of light radiating from the mesophyll, like fireflies in summer, circle by circle, roll by roll, gradually becoming lighter, until there was no gap between it and the darkness. I smelled a kind of fragrance, which was filled with inexplicable sadness. The flowers that should have been beautiful actually had the feeling of falling catkins and melancholy.