A bird of memory in the middle of winter.
The ice is heavy and the snow is several feet deep.
With only the shackles of memory and no wings, I can only walk and walk in vain. If possible, I hope to become a bird that can remember good things and bad dreams with ease, a bird with excellent memory, a bird that is no longer afraid of memories, a bird that accepts itself, and finally breaks out of the cage.
Intention: Another life.
