Absurdity, nonsense, desolation, barrenness
Before we begin, there is something I want you to know: I am an artist.
I don't want to use something as cowardly and distorted as words to present anything. This notebook's existence is more symbolic than practical. I can write down some shallow and worthless thoughts.
This world does not need artists, yet it keeps giving birth to them.
People need to worship something intangible, to preserve their humility and nobility. And I am the ashes beneath their nobility, destined to fly like grains of sand toward the silent, deep blue sky.
Desolation corrodes everything, leaving behind only irredeemable dust.
