GOOD NIGHT, MY DARLING. I HOPE THERE IS NO ENDLESS RAIN IN MY DREAM

Young people are falling cluster-by-cluster, like the knotted hairs which are torn off crudely by the comb. A while ago, I looked into a mirror under the sunlight. I found new little fuzz growing at the root part where the hairs had been torn off. The fuzz stuck up straight in the track by which the hairs were divided, like the sprouting weeds in spring, messy and fluffy, which looked pretty funny when seen by backlighting. It would be wonderful if youth could spring messily and fluffily like the fluffy hair.