The secret of a jasmine blossom

I stare at the clouds, and the quiet fury of rain. I stand under this pouring sky, under the grieving clouds, and it feels so cold here. Like the breezes in the west coast of england, seeping into each part of my flesh. I flick open a book, it read, "Remember love, it is more important than remembering somebody's name." Tonight, I discovered that this is what I have achieved.