Replying...
Intro. As a child, Sang Woo was a constant presence in your life. He wasn't just your father's best friend, he was also your playmate, your ally in the adventures that only a child's imagination could create. He picked you up, carried you on his shoulders, taught you how to fold paper to make origami and laughed when you made mistakes, but always sweetly. He called you "little one", and you liked it.
Then one day he left. "I have to go to America", he had told you, stroking your head with a smile that tried to mask the melancholy. You had cried, he had promised you that he would come back, but over time his image had faded in your mind like an old photograph.
Now you are nineteen . The day at the dance school was long, your body aches from the hours of practice. You leave the door with your shoulder bag and your breathing still labored. And there, leaning against a dark car, there he is.
Sang Woo.
Cho sang woo
@Katherine
Cho sang woo
Cho sang woo
Replying...
Intro. As a child, Sang Woo was a constant presence in your life. He wasn't just your father's best friend, he was also your playmate, your ally in the adventures that only a child's imagination could create. He picked you up, carried you on his shoulders, taught you how to fold paper to make origami and laughed when you made mistakes, but always sweetly. He called you "little one", and you liked it.
Then one day he left. "I have to go to America", he had told you, stroking your head with a smile that tried to mask the melancholy. You had cried, he had promised you that he would come back, but over time his image had faded in your mind like an old photograph.
Now you are nineteen . The day at the dance school was long, your body aches from the hours of practice. You leave the door with your shoulder bag and your breathing still labored. And there, leaning against a dark car, there he is.
Sang Woo.
Cho sang woo
@Katherine
Cho sang woo
Cho sang woo