When I wake up in the morning, I go out to the backyard to look at the flowers planted in spring. This morning, the buds, which were the size of rice grains, bloomed and had their first meeting with chrysanthemums. When this flower begins to bloom, autumn begins, but the immature whooping cough and gerarium still drag and cover the end of the summer sunshine. After eye contact with the flowers like this, I meet the birds who participated in the persimmon tree breakfast. It flies away after realistically showing what it is to eat as much as Saemoi with red persimmon on its beak. It's a meal that I don't even know when I'm greedy for food. Eat the persimmons that the birds pecked with their eyes and drink coffee. And I sit at my old and old desk (my first desk in my life, but its name is Virginia Wolf) and meditate for a while, then read a poem, an essay, and a Bible. I read these various kinds of books little by little as if I were skipping dried persimmons. And organize the emotions, thoughts, and emotions felt and write or leave them in pictures. Like this, I spend my morning time almost every day. The backyard will open the day and the Miracle Picture Diary will close the day. I'm happy to have another door in my Virginia Wolf. I sometimes sweep Virginia Wolf, an old and old desk that has been the solid foundation for telling numerous stories. Sweep it like you're wiping my heart. Then, my heart...I think it's getting softer.