There was a buzzing in my ears.
It's windy, winter, and my temples are sore from being stung.
"They say there is still tenderness in this world. Is there anything I can't think of?"
"It's always a matter of severity."
"How simple it is to live in this world"
"Why, not everyone can survive"
"But it's so difficult to live in this world."
"It's meaningless, floating up and down, numb, floating in this world..."
"I love you, I miss you"
"You said you wanted to hurry up to winter."
"I thought, what's good about winter? It's desolate and biting."
"Yeah, it's desolate and biting."
But you can't wait any longer.
"Bang..."
It's so piercing, it's filling up bit by bit.
It's so heavy. In the field of vision, the bleak sky obscures some features, becomes blurry, and turns into darkness.
You are in summer and I am in winter.
Together.
Concept: What is love and what kind of love is needed?