"When the time comes to return, with the chiming of the ancient clock tower in the distance, the dandelions will bloom again and the silver needles will fly in the air." In the corner of the alley, an old beggar dressed in rags described vividly. Others listened attentively, with gleaming eyes, as if they had imagined the scene. "I have never been sad or shed tears. I just occasionally recall it in the middle of the night and feel a little helpless and sad."