Library

Spring, youth, immaturity, young age. Light and time are like fine sand flowing through your fingertips, fleeting and difficult to catch. The City of Spring tells some stories of youth. Every time I look up at the stars, I burst into tears. The stars that are lost in the long river of memory, every time they flicker, I remember the heartbeat, the longing, and the unique dream. Those forgotten ones, buried deep in memory, their light is faint and invisible, but I know how precious they are. The wandering lone stars, the falling reds, and the tears falling like pearls, my youth has passed away quietly, as the poet said, it walks in the beautiful brilliance, like the night...