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.