Echoes on the Hillside

Until now, I have never ceased approaching that hill; ‘it turns out it’s still the same’. I hope change can’t wash away the memories—the memories that too often roam in my head. On a bench near the edge of the hill, I thought I’d pause for a while and ask,Why does this cigarette smoke vanish so quickly but linger in my lungs? I smoked this cigarette while gazing at the sun, beginning to bid farewell to the Matterhorn apls. Fortunately, as I sat, it wasn’t regrets that lingered, but memories of the wings that encircled this hillside.

Those who were always there before are now beginning to ascend their respective stairs; only I remain, unable to bid farewell to this place. I actually longed for a reason to return home, but they too promised to return once they achieved what needed to be done. ‘I think it’s time to go home.’

‘The stairs, exhausting to descend, are also showing signs of weariness with their crumbling edges, ha.’ When I reached the bottom, I simply glanced back and began walking towards the darkness of night. This cool yet quiet street is difficult to forget: ‘I hope they’re doing well in the heart of the capital there.’ ‘That’s right, if they return, I’ll only hold them to their unfulfilled promises.’

I didn’t forget to stop and buy more cigarettes, perhaps because I smoked too much on the hill, whether it was smoke or memories. I also didn’t forget to visit the bar for all the beer that could satiate this longing. Upon arriving home, I changed clothes and sat by the window, gazing at the numerous lights illuminating the moon, before drifting off to sleep with the murmured wish, ‘I hope one day everything will return to normal.’

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