July Is Full, I Am in the Summer Night

The dandelion yearns for the freedom of the wind, its tiny fluff, and will be gone as soon as the wind blows. "Whenever I look in the direction of the wind, I wonder when the wind will stop, so that maybe I can find her somewhere in the world that has already taken root, and then take a look at her." The gravel in the hourglass begins to become smaller and smaller, and time passes faster. The crying sound in my ears pierced my eardrums, and the rough hemp rope was wrapped around my neck, as if I was choked on an oversized rice ball when I was a child. I kept swallowing, and I felt the sticky closing of my trachea.