Suddenly I wanted to hear the sound of water, so I threw the key into the pool.
Hunting figures in the gaps of dreams, welcoming the unfamiliar sunshine that I haven't seen for a long time. It's seven o'clock this morning.
Even if I sink to the bottom of the lake, I won't be polluted. I know this but want to get a response from someone. Am I sick?
Is being manipulated beautiful in terms of status?
No, beautiful flowers will wither and be snubbed and laughed at anytime
Dark red blood oozes from the wound, still smiling in the dark night
If the blue velvet sky is silent in the face of helpless things, what should I do?
Living in an illusion relying on a little comfort. Love is a strange symptom.
Intention: