Please let me meet that secret, just like one kind of loneliness embracing another kind of loneliness, understanding and being understood at the moment of physical contact. The city of the sky floating among the flowing clouds, you are like me, crowded, but no one knows.
Perhaps everyone looked up at the moment, saw the shadow of the Sky City in their eyes, bowed their heads, but could never find their home. Tears are no longer suitable for this world, what else can be surprised? Anything is possible. We stop indifferently in the excess of possibilities.
The green grass becomes familiar in an instant, it is no longer a landscape in my eyes, it is my habitat. The nets that you and I wove suddenly cracked, causing me to slip between the sky and the earth, getting close to the birds and talking to the flowers. Me, the flowers, the birds, and the city in the sky are all secrets in the world, but it's a pity that we don't listen to each other.
Who can die among the flowing clouds and see the door of time and space open, fleeing from the reincarnation. Who can disappear in the sky, but never fall. When it is sunny, I am willing to look up to see if my Sky City is flying by. Thanks, Hayao Miyazaki.
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