At that time, I could no longer remember some people and things, but those people and those things always accompanied me gently and firmly, never far away. I once asked you how long a flower lasts. In my quiet years, in the depths of blank memory, I remember the sunflower painting by Van Gogh that you handed me, with its flamboyant yellow and stretched branches and leaves. Later I learned that the flower language of sunflowers is silent love. Just like in those years, you waited for me. I don't remember you, but you love me, and this love grows with my eyes in the passing time. You said that a flower's fleeting time can be very long. In your silent years, it blooms full and majestic. Because of love, it will never wither. I have met many people, always dependent on the shadow, and then I met you. As long as you are here, as long as I am here, we will take our time and walk through every season together.
