After reading the diary many times, the title page has become slightly yellowed.
To be honest, words are really a wonderful thing. They have no sound, color, or smell. But when those strange symbols are spliced together, they seem to be given life and flow. Even the dusty years are alive and emerging like a reflection.
Dear reader, would you like to hear a story?
Once upon a time in Paris, there was an aloof girl who called herself Mado Moser. Under the influence of the red thread of fate, she met a young man from Japan. The young man was straightforward and dull, like a deer in the mountains or a bird in the forest. The two chatted happily, and the young man fell in love with the girl when they first met. The girl gradually awakened her tender emotions through daily interaction and companionship, and stepped out of her autistic and secluded life step by step. They went to Venice together, truly as free as birds, and talked about love and freedom...
Sounds exactly like one of those lackluster romances on the market.
If you ask me what I think, I really hope this is just an ordinary love story that everyone is happy with.
The yellowed pages rustled between my fingers.
The lights of Venice seemed to be flowing through my fingertips, just like in my memory.
Intention: Everything has its time, and so do we. When the flowers bloom, the song of love will sound again.