This is a story about how a "loser" faces the end of life. It does not tell about counterattacks and reunions, but rather looks at the dreams crushed by reality, the apologies delayed by time, and how we identify the glimmer of the past that has not been completely extinguished in the midst of constant loss. Between the garbage and dust, perhaps there is something more real than a perfect ending - that is the evidence that we have believed and lived so seriously and clumsily.
Intent: This is an anti-romantic fairy tale, but it tries to find a bit of bitter poetry for adults in the broken places. It does not praise success or glorify persistence, but rather stares at the folds of life that are defined as "failures" and asks whether there is still a little warmth and truth worth cherishing. It is about how we coexist with the incomplete past, and how we struggle to confirm who we are in the process of constant "loss".