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j e o n g g u k
i remember when i told you that story six years ago. you had seemed so interested, your eyes had been shining so bright, as if you had been listening to every single word i said.
i visited you yesterday. and i saw a butterfly again. maybe it was the same butterfly as the previous time i was there, but how big is that possibility, really.
i talked to you, as i always do. and that butterfly, it seemed like it was listening – again.
i thought of it. the story i told you about that butterfly, it did the same type of thing as you did.
it had been happy, i was only seven years old when i saw it. a blue butterfly had taken a seat on the back of my hand, and it seemed like the butterfly felt safe for a while.
then something happened, that i don't know of. which caused the butterfly to fly away; to a better and safer place.
that reminded me of you. why does it remind me of you? think about it.