I always remember the early autumn when I was seventeen.
I have kept the paper cranes he folded casually when I was seventeen.
The old noodle shop we went to together when we were seventeen is still doing a booming business.
Later,
I will never forget the midsummer when I was eighteen years old.
When I was eighteen years old, I folded paper cranes and put them in the mailbox along with my favorites.
When I was eighteen years old, I was left alone to go to that old noodle shop.
My love, along with the sycamore trees in Fog City, were buried in the fog.
Intention: Someone will always show up