Under this indigo dome, under this blue wheel in a distant desert, there was an old and old tower , one day, under the wild onslaught of rain and wind from the horizon, a pigeon opened up to the old tower, the tower became the only shelter for fatigue, its kindness became a balm for brokenness , but this incident of a tower and a pigeon became the story of the tragedy of attachment , first of all, you know our story, you knew I couldnt go, you could
.When the wind and rain were over, that bird feathers begged and longed for the tower and did not see the age of the tower, the life of the rain was the happiness of the old tower , after that, even in my dream, I did not see that bird , O my bird, O my traveler, I am the same rotten person who sits alone , your migration was your ascension, but I am a prisoner of the swamp of my earth, the secret of flight, and only you know that I cant go, you can. You could have told the end of our story, you know, you knew I couldnt go, you could
