Abstract

When I can remember, my grandmother had a cat.
It was a very beautiful and cute black cat.

If there is good food,
Grandmother will always leave it for the cat.

With the cat in the house,
the mice had no choice but to keep quiet.
And the twinkling cat's eyes on the night of the blackout were the only light for her.

In the quiet flow of time, the daily life of a cat and an old woman is depicted.
The stories that happened after their deaths are told only through quiet illustrations.

Author’s Information

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