nostalgia

I wonder if something nice will happen.

Waking up in the morning with someone to exchange greetings with — it's a feeling I haven't had in a long time.

In the darkness, I desperately stretch my hand out toward her receding figure.

Back in the day, doing something bad would normally earn you a slap or a knuckle-rap from a schoolteacher.

Spring — thinking of the time when new buds burst forth on the persimmon trees, it's wonderful.

Hideki, let me tell you, back then he couldn't get used to being here at all, and he'd sulk all the time.

She has cherished irreplaceable memories from her childhood.

She sat on a bench, humming an old tune in a low voice.

She was lost in fond memories.

She used to often practice violin on the rooftop.

When she lived in London, she used to go to that theater often.

She used to play the piano often after school.

She used to often quote from the Bible.

She is no longer the woman she once was.

She's not the woman she was five years ago anymore.

"Remember this place?" "It's the meetup spot for the group walk to school, right."

She used to travel a lot when she was young.

She cherishes the precious memories from her childhood.

She used to often be late for class.

She used to play tricks on me a lot.