The riotous blooms, all those purples and reds, have withered away, left to crumbling walls and ruined wells. How I lament that fleeting springtime. History cannot be changed, yet it affects us at every moment. It has no right or wrong; whether it is good or bad depends on the fate of those who made it. Perhaps this is the detour youth was destined to take. It chose to unfold in a difficult way. Though its intentions were kind, the scars it left in our hearts were cruel. Even projecting it into another world to atone is futile, for reality is far more cruel than fiction.
Core theme: History cannot be changed, yet it affects us at every moment. It has no right or wrong; whether it is good or bad depends on the fate of those who made it.
