People cry - In the mist.

It's like a cloud.

In the red, in the green, through the black.
The traveller is a little young boy.

Ah - #!

It's quiet.

Should I tell him ?
Or should it be me ?

I, think.

The point is to never give up.


You see little boy, Adults are like a woven straw.

They can turn. They can be together.
And do not belong.

I think You yet need to understand :(