Smoke, fire and glass are the rain that freezes time in sadness and silence. The sound of falling rain, the graceful breeze, and the gentle movement of footsteps. The rain is very lingering, so gentle that it is unreasonable. The sycamore trees in front of the street can hear the faint pretentiousness of the rain. The glass of the windows and doors is the echo of raindrops, for a long time, for a long time, just like the fragmented time.