Before I know it… against a screen of bright red clouds… I hear the refrain against the black curtain of my closed eyes. Over and over… again and again. And every time, my heart… It’s like what my mother left me scatters away. I want to hear it again, yet I don’t want to hear it again. One more time… I want to see her, yet I don’t want to see her. This kind of feeling… What was it called again? What do you call this kind of feeling again? You exist inside spring.