After a sip of whisky in the morning, the feeling of pulling a knife at first is gone; if you drink a bit more, your throat is choked hard, but your heart is much better. No one knows her again, no one knows her again. She thinks that the past has not happened. She is still close to her he, beside her dear daughter, her delicate, her home, her lawn All this has been lost, not by others’ plunder, but by ourselves. She grabbed her hair hard and pulled it to her eyes. It covered half of her face, which was a little bit red, and it looked strange. She slapped her mouth, some blood in the mouth spread, the feeling of pain let her light some. She took a sip of the wine and reached out for another.