Genur.art

An old man holding his wife's hand, walking as slowly as an old clock. He repeatedly selected tofu in front of the stall, while she counted the fresh vegetables she had just bought: "Buy a little less, otherwise they will go bad." Finally, he still took a bag of the sugar cakes she loved. When crossing the street, he naturally protected her on the inner side. The setting sun stretched their hunched figures very long, like a vine that had entwined for a lifetime