You are a bird, a meteorite, the smelly river after the rain, and the meandering wind.
You bring the scorching sun, so the distant and slender needles pierce the hotness of the concrete floor, and sparkling brilliance grows on the balcony, jumping from one cactus to another.
You open the book and the words flash into a diary.
And all the memories disappeared.
Then you open your eyes and hear His voice.
Intention: None