A cold, damp place filled with cold fog
Faded flowers drawn from the mire
thin twigs
Climb up with buds
Lying beside the tombstone
Broken marble wings of gray angel
Pale vines seep into the cracked texture of the stone
At this moment there will be violins resounding through the dying dawn
The most gorgeous melody in the world is about to be played for it
Concept: Silk has a lifespan of eight hundred, paper has a lifespan of a thousand years