Sometimes back in the evening, I stepped into the area of book festival where enormous bright lights stretched as far as my eyes could see. Suddenly the area caught fire.
The book festival was set up as a mutually profitable arrangement by book guilds.
They screamed after viewing some books turned into ashes.
Fire brigade tanks rolled up and down. Water spilled out from the tanks. I wondered some books were still safe. I brought them to my face. It meant...the world to me.