I see you standing in the memory, your eyebrows and eyes are as long as the sky and the earth.
We once walked through old lanes and old streets, and sycamore leaves fell slantingly between the hair tips.
So I started writing about the incompleteness of the moon.
Dear,
This time I'm looking for our full moon.
Intention: In a life full of thorns, there is still a ray of light that shines