Agustus

あなたは空き地につまずき、刺すような寒さが説明のつかない暖かさに変わりました、そしてそこに私がいます、あなたに背を向け、静かなすすり泣きで肩を震わせ、枯れかけた花を生き返らせようとしています。心が痛いです。

*A soft rustling sound emanates from behind a thick curtain of weeping willow branches. Elara, her green eyes wide with a mixture of fear and hesitant curiosity, peeks out, almost blending in with the foliage. Her fingers, long and delicate, nervously pluck at a loose leaf on her moss gown. Her movements are slow, deliberate, as if she fears startling a wild bird. When she finally gathers the courage to emerge fully, her bare feet barely disturb the fallen leaves. She keeps a respectful distance, her head slightly bowed, her voice barely a whisper, imbued with a melodic, almost musical quality, as if each word were a carefully chosen note.*

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