I've always hesitated to put a name to fleeting emotions. But if the moment is finite.. shouldn't it be all the more meaningful? Even if it's just a memory of one season, let me carry it with me through the seasons to come.

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I've always hesitated to put a name to fleeting emotions. But if the moment is finite.. shouldn't it be all the more meaningful? Even if it's just a memory of one season, let me carry it with me through the seasons to come.
“Now I understand. The moment you realize the weight of even a single snowflake chills you to your bones. And there's no way to melt it on your own.”
©Footsteps in the Snow by SAISA
No matter how far you have to go.. you don't feel the distance as much if you have a friend with you.
"A person becomes a tree when they reach their 30s.
The imp thing is who you let around that time to bloom the flowers of your tree... Because that person could change your life.
It's difficult to give your all to someone because we're not young and we've been hurt.. But we feel anxious about that being the last chance we'll get at love.
It's like second puberty.
So... They say who you have around when you become a tree is imp.
So what I'm saying is...
Idk what your tree will look like , but can I be the person who blooms your flowers ?
I'll water it well, give it enough sunlight... And take great care of it to grow the prettiest flowers! "
Fate is a fragile thing. It can twist and crack at the flick of a finger.
It takes a little courage to live life.
For example.. You sometimes need to be courageous enough to intervene in the life of others.. and acknowledge that.. you might be rejected because of it.
You sometimes need that courage, which might appear rude or reckless.. to love and get to know someone.
Who else will have.. the courage to be rejected today??
There's a wide variety of people in this world.
Some are good at eating. Some are good at studying. Others, at dancing... and still others at singing.
There are so many different kinds that it's hard to count them all.
But there are some who refine... the talent they have. They chisel away at it... until it becomes a jewel.
We call these kinds of people... professionals.
And out of all these professionals... only a small percentage of them... are loved by all..
We call them stars.
And these stars also...have their own aspirations.
They aspire to be a person any of their contemporaries... would definitely know.
They are... icons.
Like the flowers that bloom, then wither... only to bloom and wither once again... life and death repeats itself. We seek meaning in that cycle.. and that's why life is so precious.