When I first saw her, she was in the subway station. She was wearing a large down sweater, but she was thin. Even though the clothes looked bloated, she still felt thin to me.
She stood in the wind, her hair flying. The winter here is really cold. She didn't wear a scarf or gloves, and her face was a little pale. She held a microphone in her hand and sang a song softly. I have listened to many singers singing, but no one has ever made me feel like that. Not hysterical, not cold and indifferent, but sadness that goes deep into my bones. I can't hear crying or lamentation, but it's just sadness, only sadness.
I have also heard her laugh. It was when she told a cold joke with her companions. It was actually quite tacky, but she still laughed happily. It was not subtle or artificial, but she was just happy, only happy.
Conception: