Reading to this point, even though I had anticipated my brothers' sacrifices, I remained silent for a long time.
Among those lost, I miss myself the most…
What could I have gone through to utter such words filled with melancholy and sorrow?
Looking back at that photograph, my mood grew even heavier.
Among these people are my own family, friends, lovers…
If these people disappeared one by one right in front of me, just the thought of that scene made my heart feel like it was being gripped, unable to breathe.
Even though the entire text does not mention the details of the battlefield or the sacrifices of everyone, the more it is so, the more I can feel my own pain.
That must be the sorrowful past that I am unwilling to put pen to paper or even mention...
According to my usual low-key style, perhaps I could always remain behind the scenes.
