Blooming under a cold moon, we are like fireworks... Rising, shining, and finally scattering and fading. So until that moment comes when we vanish like fireworks... Lets us sparkle brightly, Always... — Tite Kubo Copy Share Image
Sprigs of plum by the corner of the wall Are blooming alone in the cold; If not for the subtle fragrance drifting over Who could tell this from snow on the boughs. — Wang Anshi Copy Share Image
