Rain cannot be captured, and neither can the sound of the piano.
Walking in this rain-like emotion, step by step, I am getting closer to the time when the sky clears up. I want to hold on, so I stretch out my hands and hold them tightly - my palms are wet, but in fact there is nothing.
It cannot be grasped, and it has never stopped for anyone.
──Such a selfish rain.
──We are so willful.
The author debated for a while whether he should be classified as Dark, and decided to let everyone go and let everyone comment and struggle together...