I always dream of the tree with white flowers. When the flowers bloom, they are as bright as stars and snow-capped trees. Suddenly one day, there is a strong wind and a heavy rain. The white flowers that fell on the ground blended with the blood on the ground. The white is white and the red is blood red.
But the beginning of the story is beautiful. On that day, the sun was light and warm, the white flowers were in full bloom, and the years were quiet, calm and clear. Who knew that the future would be bumpy, displaced, and entangled with grievances and grudges.
I have a story, do you have wine?