(Secretly in love with you)
I turn the midsummer night of youth into words, and I want to depict you again bit by bit.
The bamboo leaves in the small bamboo forest made a faint sound in the wind blowing during evening self-study. I secretly looked at your side face under the soft light of the lamp, the dates that were decreasing day by day, and the diary that was increasing one by one.
I know you know, just as I know we are impossible, youth is a sour literature and a ripe fruit.
(It's a little memoir, of the person I remember, dedicated to all the unknown secret loves, and to the light in your lives)
Intention: Be your own light