The noisy cicadas lying on the tree trunks, the melted popsicles dripping down, the rusty retractable doors, the familiar complaints after school and the youth that will never come back.
Memories kept coming back. She sat in the bus and looked at the blurred world outside the window. The memories were magnified, and there were bursts of soreness in her chest.
There is no hysteria, no obsession, just peace, unexpected peace.
Intention: If you are not compared to something that is out of reach, you are not the blue sky, white clouds, or bright moonlight, you are like stars. Dazzling and brilliant in my eyes.