An evening terrace enclosed by black carved railings
there is a man
show affection down there
"You have to remember them all," he said.
I must remember them all...
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This is a story about forgetting and remembering.
In a world full of stories,
Some forgetting is a choice, and some forgetting is not a choice.
Just like an occasional turn around, we forget what we shouldn't forget.
What is forgotten is memory.
Our hearts remain the same.
Like through thick fog,
A vague figure in the distance,
Still let the heart slowly beat out a throbbing rhythm.
Then, someone deep down whispered: "Please, remember."
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