There are not many love lines, please don't let me in, the author feels a bit bloody, the main character is in diary format
Redemption or captivity? To love or to mourn?
When two souls are full of cracks, who can be whose medicine?
On the ruins where paint and blood blend, they must identify: Are those carefully pieced together the bones of their lover, or their own unburied past?
[The tender and obsessive savior-a broken and fragile work of art]
Concept: Real salvation is to see the unique shape in the other person's wound