I have never told you that I like your gentle voice, your reticence, your calmness at all times, the warm smile that occasionally appears on your ice face, the way you work and read seriously, the words you said to me, "The moon is so round tonight," the fireflies you caught for me, the shadow puppet show you arranged for me, the roses you gave me, and the way you remember my love.
But third brother, I seem to be unable to like you anymore.