I grew red poppy flowers that I received as a gift between spring and early summer last year. I tried to grow it well, but it didn't last long, and the poppies I grew on the terrace were scattered here and there like pieces after the rain. In the end, the poppy flower soon died out. I had collected scattered petals and dried them in between books. Watching this process, I thought about things that naturally disappear and disappear. If there was one thing that did not disappear even after the poppy flower disappeared, it would be "memory." Although it is short, the time when I raised poppies is alive in my memory, and the memory does not disappear easily but comes to mind vividly. It made me feel the preciousness and value of the things that existed.