I woke up to the sound of a petrel. Looking out the window, I saw a train splashing through the sea, which had been swollen by the previous day's rain.

The summer sunlight was white, as were the waves that traced the train's path. The sky was blue, indigo, and azure. In front of us, the calm, remote island where the petrels gather became even more green and lush. Is my heart beating? Or are you feeling overwhelmed by anxiety? The only thing I knew was this. On that island, I'm going to start a life without seeing the night. To remember the dreams of rainy nights.

--The morning glory does not know about the night.