"The scenery of the North, thousands of miles of ice, thousands of miles of snow~" is a poem familiar to many people. But it is the end of a tragedy...
The sound of the piano pours out like flowing water, and the violin is lingering like dancing, creating a tragic color.
Watching the kite flying in the sky, although my heart is moving with the wind, but the thread is not in my hand...
A kite with a broken string, a kite blown randomly by the wind. A kite that no one can pay attention to.
?? I just hope that I can meet a good person under the new sky, hold my hand and pull him into my arms. Repair the injured heart and let the laughter be released, like a true eagle soaring freely in the sky.