When the autumn leaves let go of their branches and let the wind lead them to wander around, I think of the fallen leaves of love that have left their true nature. In my dream, the summer wind blows vaguely on my face, like a wandering wanderer living in memories. The disorderly footsteps always fiddle with the love in my heart and beat the tranquility of the night.
The spring breeze is the waiting of the glaciers; the harvest is the waiting of autumn; the rain and dew are the waiting of the earth; the sunshine is the waiting of the sea; who am I waiting for? Facing the beauty of the city, I was at a loss as to my destination. The wind stopped, the rain stopped, the branches swayed, the moon peeked, a vaguely familiar face appeared in the clouds, and a hot love was relived in my heart.
Conception: