Red, breeds life and buries life.
Dreams create hope and contain hope.
The waxing moon is full, no longer as bright as yesterday, but as poignant as ever.
What fills the air is the scent of rue, or memories.
The threads of memory gradually became messy.
Bright red is not nothingness, not darkness.
Forever, it is nothingness, but it is bleak.
Maybe this is not where I belong, maybe there is a time and space that is more suitable for my destination.
It's just... I'm here, and I already have something I want to protect.
The gaps in time will be wide and bright.
Then, try to come in and face my world——