We are struggling in this perhaps twisted world. The object called love is not composed of organic matter, and it disintegrates and falls into desolate fragments all over the world.
I loved you and was buried. I said I love you to the judge, and the crime I was sentenced proved the traces of our tenderness. He said he was not guilty and I was acquitted.
Look, how funny. The voice that cannot be conveyed even if we embrace each other, the love that cannot be trusted even if it is unforgettable, is this the reality of this world? Who has ruined us, and who have I ruined?