People who love painting have no choice but to throw away their paintbrushes, while sunny people suffer from mental illness.
"... Maybe I'm a coward and don't have the courage to continue waiting for that endless spring in purgatory."
The fluttering crows envelop the scarlet color; the recurring dream shines into reality.
Staring at the reflection on the glass window, she saw clearly the face in her dream, and finally understood her own dream.
The first snow of early winter in Yunzhou has arrived, and the sky and earth are white, like a scroll of landscape painting, which is perfect for writing poetry.
If only... She was still here.
She fell from the twenty-sixth floor of the building, and the crows hovering in the twilight flew out of an ink-colored vortex.
She disappeared in the night and sank in the darkness...
The darkest moment is also the time of rebirth.
Everyone will usher in their own new life.
Intention: Winter has arrived, but spring is not too late.