Fever·scorching Summer

In the past that he was trying to forget, the delicate and beautiful boy as young as a doll was always following him with his glassy eyes, like an inescapable net that trapped him firmly in that summer... July 2004 was hotter than any other summer in my memory. The scorching and sultry temperature, the occasional aroma of the yellow oak tree mixed with the hot wind, the sweat crawling across the skin leaving an unpleasant sticky feeling, the water marks on the hair dripping on the mat, and even the gentle ringing of the wind chime, are like scattered puzzle pieces rooted in the cells of the cerebral cortex. They cannot be pieced together into a complete pattern, but they are still alive...