Aloof transfer student×Buddhist literature and art committee
We met at the intersection listening to the chirping of cicadas, and we also said goodbye in the chirping of cicadas in summer. We said goodbye to each other at that intersection, and the words that we could not say when we were young were finally blown away by the evening wind and became a wisp of memories that were etched in our hearts. Maybe they turned into nothing, let go, and abandoned. Or maybe, if you shout out those words that have been buried for a year, you may not get a response in the end.
Fireworks bloom in winter. When you raise your eyes, the black pupils reflect a familiar figure and a desperate embrace.
Intention: Don't wait