I sometimes used to ask myself, what on earth did I love her for? Maybe for the warm hazel iris of her fluffy eyes, or for the natural side-wave of her brown hair, done anyhow, or again for that movement of her plump shoulders. But probably the truth was that I loved her because she loved me.
Most people fall in love for the first time as teenagers. I guess I'm a late bloomer. Maybe I'm too picky. On May 30, 1995, I finally fell in love for the first time. It was raining that night. When I looked at her, I suddenly felt like I was a store. And she was me. Without any warning, she suddenly enters the store. I don't know how long she'll stay. The longer the better, of course.
He remembers those vanished years. As though looking through a dusty window pane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct.