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The writer recalls the days of his early twenties. The biology
student passed his summer vacation aimlessly back at his home
town. There are episodes about his childhood and his three girls
whose names and faces have long been forgotten. Amid the bar
scenes of cigarettes, french fries and beers, there was still
extra space for his favourite author and the chunks of his philosophies.
It was a time to be remembered though. |
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"Haven't sensed the sweet breath of summer for long.
The sweetness of the waves. The faraway steam whistle. the touch
of girl' skin. the lemon smell of hair conditioner. the evening
wind. Faint hope. Summer dream... all disperse bit by bit like
the bygone days." |
"But it is very difficult to talk about the deceased,
and even more difficult to talk about a girl who dies young.
Being dead, they remain young forever." |
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"Yet we who are left behind are aging older year by
year, month by month, day by day. Sometimes I even feel myself
getting older hour by hour. Most horrible of all, this is hard
fact." |
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