[DeepL Translation - needs review] When the fall ended and the cold winds began to blow, she would sometimes lean into my arms. Through the thick fabric of her duffle coat, I could feel her breath. But that was all. She was not looking for my arms, but for someone else's. She was not looking for my warmth, but for someone else's. Not my warmth, but someone else's. ...... The gaze, the talk, the thoughts, and the pain of that time that will never come back. Seven lyrical short stories.
(Translator: DeepL)
