The storyteller talked about the fate of the beauty, and sighed for a long time, and the white air spread all over his eyes.
"But day and night are too long. Beauty can't afford to wait."
The dream interpreter knocked down the stars and brewed a bowl of sweet porridge. Brew up a tune that will be babbling for generations to come.
But you see that the misfortunes in the world are nothing but fireworks in the market. You feel sorry for yourself and just let it go. No one is freed from prison, they are just plunged into the next crazy dream.
And me?
I face mountains and rivers alone.
Not alone.