She was so fragile.
Standing there, on the verge of islet, adrift and made of rock.
Gentle wind was blowing softly her hair and richly ornamented dress.
Unsolved problems.
Unspeakable words.
Suspended feelings have just started to flow out.
Tears were running down from her eyes, delicately flowing down her pale cheeks.
She squatted down and picked some flowers growing up around her.
From below of the rocky islet the porcelain teapot has appeared, then inclined.
Tea was pouring into nothingness which was streching away into the distance.
She stood up and came closer to the verge, still holding armful of flowers in her hand.
She glanced at scenic view below, for a moment discontinuing shedding tears.
And then, holding her breath, she made one step into nothingness.
Flight into unknown, death and freedom, release from inside pain.
She was falling down like a feather lost by an eagle.
Written by Yukio
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