Preface

where to begin was where to leave. soon it was where to end this story.

One family was about to leave the place they had lived. As they saw a poor moor, too natural glazed with spectacular trees and bushes. Full of joy and large burst trees were summoned surrounded the lone lonely cottage. Seems so hopeless or no mercy to a little boy who was standing front of his old home. The eyes look at what he could see while his mouth could not say what he wish for. He kept his legs strong as much as his mind revised all the memories in which he felt. And yet, no one stand before a lonely home. no one and nothing left excepted the wave of sound which whisper to his own ears.

As I sit still but my body moved. To let pleasure come along with the mood. only pencil and paper, make it to be true.