Weak candlelight illuminates the corners where the autumn leaves swirled by the wind, decorating the dusty old grass, while the faint moonlight sketches mottled memories as I open the photos and piece together the yellowed recollections.
Life is like this, continually losing the things I cherish most, only to realize later how much they meant to me. When I had them, no one ever thought about what these things might ultimately lead to; why is everyone always so selfish, prioritizing their own ideas, disregarding the comfort offered by others?
Everyone encounters grand national matters in their lifetime, but ultimately, their life is filled with pain. Some people sacrifice everything for themselves repeatedly, yet no one truly knows how they spend their days.
