They say that some souls are tied by an invisible red thread-a string that may stretch or tangle, but will never, ever break. that thread was first spun in the humid air, under the shade of a Narra tree that witnessed a promise made in secret.​.

It was summer since I last saw her, Riding a train to a destination, a destination that we supposed to go, but every scene reminds me of her, her scents, and the breeze, the sound of her song Whispers, My love remains as I remember her way back home. it remains in my memory, I will never forget the echoes of the past, The echoes of her humming a song,