Once, long ago, the slowly changing seasons had been a source of hope. Darkness was something that belonged only in the cold, bleak winter, while the other seasons housed the simple pleasures of life and hope.
But death and sorrow no longer belonged only in the winter, nor did life and joy exist in the summer. The youthful innocence of spring had faded into the mature wisdom of fall, and the dreary winter was slowly taking control. The seasons kept changing though, unaware that they were being devoured by the shadows
And then there was but one season in Korea.