Stolen, by Alzheimer..

One day, they (or preferably I) will find the cure for Alzheimer.

Only then, the warm personality represented by the warmth of the brown-bean soup, the green soft cake will come back to me.

Only then, the memories of those nights of fireworks marking the start of the new year will come back to me, at the good ol' Abuserin.

Let's leave it locked.

For now..