No grass or leaves，
can be grown in the summer.
Dead trees in advance
to bid farewell as a thinker.
We all stop breathing away.
The unbearable lightness of being.
Calmly tell God no today.
The kite runner please keep running.
I'm on a journey under the midnight sun.
A whisper gone with the wind heard by a deer.
Are you write to grief grocey store to make me fun?
Only the smell of lavendar left around in my ear.
To be, or not to be,that is a question.
Finally we through the Rashomon.
