The diary records every moment of life, the road traveled, and the feelings that one does not want to forget. I am a person who does not keep a diary. When I met you, I left this article. If you write between the lines, you will stay with me forever.
A simple trip blew through a faint fragrance of summer wind. Life is composed of journeys. Fortunately, there will always be people coming. Unfortunately, the people you meet will eventually be gone. How many encounters and partings will make you grow up, and how many times the summer wind blows before you can mature.
Meeting you was beyond my expectation. Parting is bound to come. All I can do is make it come a little later.
The originally dark sky, with a simple finger of her finger, slowly appeared stars, and the Milky Way slowly shone.
Intention: I don't want to forget.