The Dust of Our Love

"I" often recall my youth, my first love, and my ignorance. Thinking about it, it seems as if those things were already destined. In summer, lying under the shade of a tree, the sun shines through the gaps in the leaves, like the light reflected on the sparkling water, bright and psychedelic, reflecting mottled on the body. Close your eyes, raise your arms and put them on your forehead to block the sun. Those bits and pieces of the past are like a clear spring slipping through the fingers, gurgling in the heart. The gentle breeze brings the fragrance of sweet-scented osmanthus, and for a moment, it seems like I have returned to that beautiful time...