Smoke, frost and snow, feasting and feasting, gold and paper drunkenness
What is visible is the glitz and dazzling prosperity
What is invisible is the silence and the sinking behind the noise.
Continuously struggling with oneself, struggling until tired, tired to the point of being helpless
The tears that have been shed, the years that have been squandered, until I know how to cherish them, all that is left is desolation and confusion.