How could I write about a time when I saw the wind and knew that your hair was so short, when I saw the dry sunshine and knew that your cheek color was so pale, and when I invited you to a festival and knew that you learned nothing about make-up. How could I write about a time when you brought waves of laughters into my life and let them echo deeply in my memory, when you walked on wooden clogs in our naive years and sounded the music in my sleep, and when we first time looked at each other and knew the time has stopped. Once upon a time. There was a time. A time that has made me shake while recalling the color of your kissing lips. By Phan Tan Hai