A story is told along a muddy, mottled path. An old woman with a deeply lined face once told the young women who passed by, "Whoever finds a purple dandelion will find happiness." So the young women looked up at the sky. The blurry things floating up there must be dandelions, they thought. They must be purple.
The young women spend their whole lives searching for purple dandelions.
Each cluster of flowers drifting upward is the love story of another ordinary person. Who could hear them and not be moved?
