I don't know why, but my words always get stuck in my chest, ever since I was a child. When I have trouble sleeping late at night, I take it out and slowly dry it out, just like my mother did when she was a child, drying the quilt in June, putting it under the bright moonlight and boiling it slowly.
I have to admit that my heart is extremely empty, flickering in and out.
Just thinking of you. Then I felt that the days that followed seemed not so difficult.
Conception: