C’est mon heureux temps.

Merci, ma fille.

Quinze jours,

C’est mon heureux temps.

Not until things happened could people comprehend.

The phenomenon happens now and again.

And people could also find despair and despression’s visiting.

We are used to hurting and then being hurt, only to leave grief behind.

How much moxie would it cost to confront ourselves?

I am prepared after days.

No matter how tough, and how impenetrable.

I am prepared.

But being prepared is not the entire thing.

How much should be lost.

And how much more could be gained.

We are scared to be losers together.

We are not ready yet.

Banal life continues, nobody dares to break it.

But how could we walk on.

Reconsider it with circumspection.

To be or not to be?

Gods lead a way to us.

Whether to walk down with attic faith or not?

In the front am I waiting unwaveringly.

It’s your turn now.

Come on, baby.

Put your hands in mine.

You and me, from one world.

We are one.

Ma fille, je t’aime amour.

With heart, forever.