I have been thinking about the point in time when I started writing this article, because the story is interconnected. The scene in the previous link fades out, the characters fade out, but the huge influence penetrates into the next link, so tight that it is suffocating. I'm still young, so I don't think about memoirs for the time being. What should I write and what shouldn't be written is a lot of trouble. Yesterday afternoon, I accidentally met the most important person in the story, and the person I originally planned to write about in fiction. We talked about the past, and we were heartbroken. She said frankly that there was no need to lie about herself, and when I agreed, I suddenly understood, and the opening tune was in my chest.
My life began on a bright winter morning, and the brilliant white snow stayed with me until the midsummer of the new millennium. After that, the snow began to become dirty, and the sunshine turned into a biting cold wind. I really don't understand. Is my pursuit a mistake or is my life itself a mistake?
At that time, I walked into the complicated world that was about to unfold below with this question...