Kicoh G...
Yokota High School
Boxes stacked like stepping stones, a new room waits with empty walls. Goodbyes stitched into each fold, They carry memories, not maps.
Schoolyards blur into one another, names fade, but lessons stay. They grow between the lines of leaving and beginning again.
Roots don’t need soil to thrive they bloom in motion, bold and bright. Every move shapes who they are, a journey drawn in purple light.