I have always believed confidently that the thread of life is in my hands. Only in hindsight did I realize that I was just a guest at the banquet of life, and could leave at any time and at any time. Even so, I wanted to say that it didn't matter, I had been there, I had loved you.
I also want to say to you, the warmest person in that time, who you met, what road you walked, and what happened before I had time to come to you. I want you to tell me such a story. When the mountain flowers are in full bloom and the fragrance is pleasant, we take a piano and walk around, stopping for a while.
Listen! The sound of May flowers blooming is crisp and sweet, so nice to hear. But where are you, the person we made an appointment with when we were young?
Could it be that we have known each other for a short time, but can only forget each other in the world?