I never thought that a White Rabbit toffee would change my life.
Mr. Rabbit is my Mr. Rabbit, but he is not my Mr. Rabbit.
If there is no if, memories are just memories. Then that spring day, catkins were flying, and the two figures walking in the distance were as warm as the wind, and their faces were full of sunshine. Whose obsession was it to portray that beautiful time in the memory?