Just when I start to think that life might still be worth living, I come across another report of a hate crime against women. On an early morning walk, on a grocery run, on the way to meet a friend—threats seem to be present at every moment of a woman’s daily life. The wish written at the end of A’s letter from 2004, “I hope for a world without pessimists like me,” has not yet reached us. I believe her death may have been a choice made in order to survive. In this hellish world, there were probably very few options available to her. As I read her letter, I began to wonder whether our time might be connected—memories of women from long ago, A’s memories, my own, and the memories of others. Our memories and histories are continuously handed down and inherited. All we are given is a long summer, and we pass that summer on to the next person. As the season slips away, we sigh and say, “We survived—just by luck.” This film is a prayer for all those who are disappearing but do not wish to vanish, and it is a mourning for all the summers that have already been lost.