The time is beautiful, the years are passing by, I have a glimpse of it in a trance, and I will never forget it.
Even though everything has nothing to do with him, the youth that is embellished, the stunning pictures, and the time that is remembered are like flowers blooming quietly for a season, like the golden evening riverside, like the old-fashioned ceiling fan that twists and turns on the ceiling of a hot room. Everything is bright and gentle, and will not fade over time.
A short story about youth and ignorant emotions.
Dedicated to the fairies who collect me!
Conception: