It’s been only a week since I was here last time. Everything that can sprout has become green. Tree canopies large and small make a lush blanket falling on me from all sides. There is a rich aroma of a forest. However, I don’t know how I should feel. Just in April I had seen a group of students picnic on a high ground above the river. Their bright shirts contrasted with the white tree bark of birches. It was beautiful. But that spot is now gone behind thick layers of leaves. In a section where the river falls down a dam, I had spotted a girl and two boys walking on their toes to cross the river. Their bodies bounced lightly forward sometimes into each other. A dog happily followed them, singing and dancing with them. Now they are nowhere to be found; and the river concealed by a wide curtain of new sprouts disappears too. I am not sure if I will ever find them again.