In the evening, walking on the gravel road, it was dark early, and the stars could be seen sparsely in the sky with a dark blue and white cloud curtain. The dim street lights were buried in the arms of the sycamore tree, lightly and shallowly supporting the gentle and quiet night. The sycamore leaves that were still green during the day were now dyed with the peaceful evening gold. In the night, it ushered in the most beautiful years of its life, slowly closed its sleepy eyes, slowly fell beside the tree, and ended its splendid life. A beautiful woman picked up the falling leaves, wiped them carefully with her slender fingers, and sandwiched them in the pages of the Bible with an ancient and old shell, quietly, without a bit of dust, and then walked away. The tree was silent, watching the graceful back of the woman gradually disappear into the night. The beautiful woman's back gradually went away, but the call of her mother came from far away. "Child who is playing on the roadside, why don't you go back? Don't let the curling smoke from the cooking stove waste your time!" "I'll go back, I'll go back..."
