Her hairpins held her loosely coiled hair, her makeup soft and light. A mist of green and blue veiled her graceful form. Floating catkins and drifting silk threads wandered without a trace.
Meeting is no better than not meeting; how can love compare to lovelessness? The music and singing faded, and the wine's effects began to wear off. In the deep courtyard, the moon slanted low, and all was still.
This is a story that belongs only to you and me.
Keep up the good work, kid!! It will always succeed!
Come on!