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Cicada doesn’t know how to dream.
I listen to the echoes from Cicada.
It sounds like wave hitting the shore inside Conch's belly.
Cicada doesn’t speak, it only know how to sing.
Over and over again, its voice encompasses all the joy and sorrow of love,
including the vows and the lies between lovers said under the tree,
whether they last a life time or just spur of the moment.
It doesn’t matter if Cicada reveals the truth after its death.
When you discover a Cicada shell under the tree in summer.
Remember to listen to the secrets embedded in it, but do so quietly.
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