There are fifty strings of Jinse for no reason, and each string reminds me of the past.
When the glue sticks to the string, the string dies and so does the time.
Perhaps, as an assistant, the whole world showed her original color from the moment I entered this psychological clinic. What I saw were the concealed desires, fears and hatreds...
For me, rather than being an unrelated bystander now, I have actually been involved in this vortex that I can't extricate myself from.
It's late at night and it's easy for people to feel lonely, so let's say something...