In the bleak winter, the stiff dead branches are no longer decorated with any remaining leaves. It happened to be another winter without snow, leaving people with nothing to rely on even for the last moment of sadness. There is only a dead tree outside the window, and the breath of winter is within reach. It's hard to explain the reason, but I don't know why I think of that woman who is wearing a blaze of red, but whose back is extremely lonely. I would like to use these meager words to comfort the beauty that has passed away for thousands of years.