When I was seven years old, my father said that tree holes could hide the secret of sound.
When I was seventeen years old, I shouted at the same tree hole: "You don't understand me at all!"
At the age of thirty-five, I stuffed the signed divorce agreement into the tree hole.
On the day of my sixtieth birthday, my daughter slammed the door and left, leaving only my old sobs in the tree hole:
"Dad... Why were all the tears you hid back then?"
Intention: childhood