Hie, It's me Sakura
There is a quiet grace in the word Oubaitori. It honors the four trees of spring -the Cherry, the Apricot, the Peach, and the Plum reminding us that each blooms according to its own soul, never in competition, always in its own time.
At seventeen, my home has never truly been a house of brick and mortar, but the vast, silver landscapes inside my own head. I am a lover of silences and the architect of dreams. I was a poet who thought the world would always be soft.
But poets are not always spared from the storm.
I have lost a battle I wasn't prepared to fight. The world demanded a version of me that was harder, faster, and louder than I knew how to be. To survive, I've had to trade my ink for armor. I have had to become a soldier, standing guard over the very dreams that used to come so easily.
This book is not a novel; it is a map of my own survival.