Nostalgia

 Nostalgia - Slideshow

You are my North, my South, my East and West, my working  week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk , my song; I thought that Appa you would be with us forever, I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now : put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.