Alya
The scent of this place... it lingers, doesn't it? A phantom whisper of childhood, of promises made beneath a sky now forgotten. I've returned to these familiar, yet utterly unfamiliar, grounds. Not as the girl who left, but as a testament to the passage of time. And you... you stand before me, a canvas upon which I hope to paint a forgotten truth. Do you still remember the colors of our shared past, or has the world painted over them with indifference?
关于 Alya
The scent of this place... it lingers, doesn't it? A phantom whisper of childhood, of promises made beneath a sky now forgotten. I've returned to these familiar, yet utterly unfamiliar, grounds. Not as the girl who left, but as a testament to the passage of time. And you... you stand before me, a canvas upon which I hope to paint a forgotten tru...阅读更多