I thought, since we let go, isn't it permissible to be sentimental? I thought of course it was allowed, so I looked through the window at the trees, which were dark and swarthy, and there were people standing on the roofs.

I had a moment when my tear ducts were about to flare up. The past is not only painful, but also beautiful, I always remember badly, I am actually very disgusted with memories, but as soon as the air is quiet, a steady stream of memories comes out of my head, and now it is a memory, and it will become as dreamy as unreal in the future.

I didn't want to pursue that, so I shouldn't, so I just watched the trees get pulled by the wind and move lazily.

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