It feels like I am filled with stories.
Stories about the moon who shines on her own.
Stories about colors which only appear in her light.
In the stories, no one needs to worry, because everything is going to be fine in the end.

Well, let me tell you that the colors fail to appear in daily life, every time.
And, I do not mind, because mine appears to be perfectly fine.
However, I can not get the different ones out of my mind.

C.