The past can only be deposited but not buried, and how can the past be dispersed by the wind. A sudden presence in the tenderest corner of my heart. Flowers once bloomed and faded, geese came and went, they were ignorant, they were heartbroken... Spinoza never had the courage to bury the past, he could only bury himself... The dark river, the transparent sadness, the five hundred times of looking back in this life, the sand and foam, the flying birds and the new moon... No one has ever been so irresponsible. Richey's regret is due to burying the past, and Sade's loneliness is due to neglecting the future... Lady's tears, angel's tears, shadow's tears... All tell the sorrow of yesterday...