"I have witnessed the brilliance of the stars, but what I hold in my palm doesn't even have a trace of afterglow."
Anna leaned gently against the back of the wheelchair, murmuring softly.
"It's so cruel."
The Springer Spaniel beside her stopped playing with the tennis ball.
August moved closer to the wheelchair, and the big dog turned its head to look at Anna's painting, then let out a low whimper again.
It opened its mouth and, with a slightly rough tongue, licked the sleeve at its mistress's wrist.
Turning around with understanding, it gently swept Anna's palm with its fluffy short tail.
"There's no need to comfort me; I'm not sad or depressed. Being sad won't change anything; I'm just a bit wistful."
Anna's palm felt ticklish as she touched her beloved dog's brown tail, and she chuckled softly.
Reading a book a hundred times reveals its meaning.
Artistic cultivation is exactly the same principle, emphasizing the influence of what one sees and hears.
