We are sailing in vain and wandering astray.
You, me, and him are all the same. They are all pursuers searching for the truth when they are lost. The road ahead is unknown and the future is unpredictable. Because of this, we struggle to rush forward and use our imagination to describe the return journey for ourselves and others. Whether it's pain or beauty, it's all just a vain thought.
We always claim to be free, but we are trapped in a closed loop of control. I shackle Hugo, and Hugo controls the world; I control the world ship, and the world ship also imprisons me. The same is true for mortals, who are invisible to lovers, relatives and close friends. Everyone is a gardener, carefully maintaining everything around him; everyone is also a butcher, hiding a pathological and paranoid desire for control.
I once found a paradise island, but finally chose to give it up. It is not a defect, but an overachievement. The ultimate perfection is so horribly false that it changes day and night, the memory is cleared, and the years are reset. I glimpsed its essence - thousands of floating bubbles. It's so fragile that it instantly collapses as soon as you see through it, but it's so hard that it hasn't broken in eternity.
All living beings abhor restraint and resist ultimate perfection.
Therefore, I want to reshape the world.
There is no paranoid control here, no absolute perfection.
Imperfection is the only perfection.
