I stood in the middle of May, watching people come and go. If I knew it would end like this, I wish that our group of people had never met each other from the beginning. Those teenagers who appeared in my youth finally became passers-by in my life... The 16-year-old sycamore flowers bloomed in the glorious season, but we will never meet again in the youth of that year. Those loves and hates have finally become the so-called past.
Intention: No matter who we meet in life, it is an experience, not a choice. Go to love, and you will always embrace the other person, no matter who it is.