Looking back now, the situation of that day really feels like fate. Many of the fateful encounters are hard to explain but have traces to follow. If I had not gone to that party that day, would their fate be different today?
The fragments of time and memory are falling day by day, pressing heavily on my body and all active nerves. What a cruel rat it is. Every moment, it withers and passes around me, but I can't stop it. Many people have used armor or pretense to resist it. I have used a wall, a closed door and window, and a gesture of rejection to resist, but to no avail, except death-that burial stone can reject it. There is no other way.
Conception: