Maybe there is such a shadow in many people's dreams yesterday: it feels warm, attractive but out of reach - those hazy feelings that died in the corners of adolescence are not clarified and have not been clarified, those who dare not approach but unconsciously approach, those trivial intersections that do not want to be forgotten but are lingering... After all, we are not living in a fairy tale: there is no pumpkin carriage, no glass slipper, not even a poison apple. After all, there is no courage and confidence to speak, and there is no bizarre and happy ending. All that is left are the broken years and broken figures that I hold dear to my heart, like poisonous vines, easily clinging to my heart in the middle of the night, when I am tossing and turning...