| Time is as hurriedly like the step, the light breeze that always can't wait for that mat to pass. In bright and beautiful May, it seems that on so in the twinkling of an eye, such as the young girl of brimming quick and short steps, the gentle one snuggles up to my shoulders. The pure white floating clouds like that day in figuring, so holy and pure and so light fairy. She has soft limb which twines you, like a mist, a gust of light breeze, several is blown invisibly, send out the laugh of a burst... | 
