People are used to using tears to cover up the crimes they have committed. In fact, what they really want is peace after peace.
However, the sin is too deep, or the memories are too real, no matter how painful the palm is, the damage has already been done.
The sun shone thinly through the cracks in the trees. I opened my fingers and covered my face slightly, and the light seeped in along the texture.
There are faint traces of transparency on the skin. What is beating is the breath of life. What is the sound of blood flowing along the veins?
Like.
What is swaying outside the window is the shadow of the tree, what is hovering above the head is the roar, what can't be broken when the toe hooks up the ribbon is the red thread or fate?
It has been very quiet. The profile of the sleeping person is peaceful. There is the sound of heavy objects falling. No one wakes up.