Master, Please Be More Serious.

The child still holds his broken grass in his mouth. He has held it in his mouth since I was here, and he still holds it in his mouth when I am no longer there. I used to laugh at him for not looking serious when I saw him holding grass in his mouth. It's been so long, and a kid in his twenties still looks like he hasn't grown up yet, but I'm happy. Thinking about it carefully, I actually don't know what the child's twenty years were like. I have been gone for more than ten years. What the child looked like before I left is what I remember now. Of course, this is what I have wanted to do since I was a child. I would lie on a tree with a broken piece of grass in my mouth for a day, with the tree's shade and swaying branches, and then I fell asleep, and then the branch broke.