竟然是真实的事件但我不同意那种非典型现实事件就必然会导致典型的生存压力艺术创作与现实的压力不必成为正相关 I love you as the plant that never bloomsbut carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly without complexities abide. I love you because I know no other way than this. So close that your hand, on my chest, is my hand. So close, that when you close your eyes, I fall asleep.