lonely country
I fell in love with myself and I will never love you again...
Every encounter is a practice
Every encounter is a practice
I fell in love with myself and I will never love you again...

I’m writing a word as I’m thinking about a past event…

Climb the long road and follow the one ahead...

I bent my body and tried to clear my stuffy nose...

I ran hard and ran forward. The wind was blowing and the rain was blowing...

The scent of vanilla exudes a classic...

The sky is full of stars and surrounded by a bright moon...

What time is it over there? Is it dark? …

What does the life that is born represent? born…

The patchwork of words is like that of the Taoist priest...