I always thought that I would keep silent about this memory. After all, even the throbbing of youth and the pain of not getting what I wanted are just a period of time that is gradually drifting away. Even if it is covered with a layer of hazy gray by time, the illusion of tranquility in the spare years in a dusty corner will not be precious because of its beauty. The reason why I must write it down is probably because I am afraid that the longer I go through it, my heart will become so stone-hearted that I will not even believe in my memory, so I can only leave a few words.