The mist and rain blow away and lock the late autumn. The tower is still soaked in mist and rain.
Listen. Let me tell you a joke.
[If there is an afterlife, you play the piano and I play the flute. We hold hands and look at the prosperity of the world. How about that?
This sentence was supposed to be a joke at the end.
The sadness at the end.
The nostalgia at the end.
The ending at the end.
But I started with it.