April sky seems pink and feels blue. Those tiny cherry blossoms begin to bud in March, when the faces are still pale and every glance is hurry and incomplete. The oblivion has been too long to see the black spots quietly spreading on the ground. One day, the morning twitter suddenly loses its rhythm. Then April finally comes and the huge blocks of white disappear from the sky. A breeze brings the tiny shiny petals to stranger’s hair, shoulder, and sole.