Every once in a while a train leaves for the future to a place where lost memories are remembered, but no one has ever returned from the year 2046, except me.
That era has passed. Nothing that belonged to it exist anymore.
He remembers those vanished years. As though looking through a dusty window pane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct.
It's hard to look at things directly. They are too bright and too dark. Sometimes we need to see things through a screen. On one side of the screen, memories fade. On the other, they glow forever. Love without end.