Let’s talk about old times sometimes.
That familiar store that I’m used to.
A row of horse chestnut trees was visible outside the window.
I spent the day with a cup of coffee.
Looking for an invisible tomorrow.
Everyone entrusted their hope.
Blown by the hot wind of the swaying era.
I felt the time in my body. Yeah.
I used to sleep on the roadside.
With everyone who can’t go anywhere.
I managed to live without money.
Poverty carried tomorrow.
Many people rushed to a small boarding house.
I slept with noise until morning.
Every day was burning like a storm.
I ran until I was out of breath. Yeah.
Look at the one photo left.
You are the bearded man.
I don’t know where he is now.
Some of my friends go there too.
Everything on that day was empty.
I can’t tell anyone.
Even now it is the same.
Draw an endless dream.
You keep running. Somewhere.
The other day, my uncle passed away, and an era is over. In my childhood memories, there are relatives who gather on the blue sea and sandy beaches. I miss the air, colors and smells of that era.
The time when my uncle lived was a turbulent time. In poverty, he had hope, broke his dreams, and in disappointment, he connected his dreams to the next generation.
Did I firmly inherit the baton?
A changing landscape. Unchanging feelings.
Please sleep peacefully.