The story I tell here could be written into a book by others. However, I spared no effort to live in this "story" and used all my virtues, so I only record my memories. The past events are intermittent and fragmented, but I do not intend to connect and patch them together by fabricating facts. This kind of embellishment will extinguish the enthusiasm for telling, and the last trace of interest will disappear. ——[France] "The Narrow Gate" by André Gide
Intention: A young man should take care of his worries. Who would think of you and sit there in the cold?