In the realm of beauty, surrounded by a clear blue sky, a hill opens its land to a lake in the shape of a heart, and further away a woman kneels on a thumb, cries. Her plaintive sobs echo and resonate in the valley, making the trees and the flowers shiver. This shrine is her refuge, the shelter of her sorrows, where she can outpour the feelings trapped inside her body which are causing her ache. She carries her grief through sun-filled roads all day, hiding behind smiles when she crosses the path of a neighbour, pretending to love the taste of the fruits she picks from an orchard. Unappreciative is how she feels inside, but she tries her best to disguise some of her incomprehensible feelings.
She hasn’t lost anyone, nor is she ill.
Her heart is just filled with pain. She believes she was born this way, and that her destiny is to pass through life invisible, without a sound, without leaving her footprints, like a ghost would do. This burdensome life she strives to endure effortlessly is at times too much to handle for her little heart. When her spleen overflows her soul, and her knees are about to drop down on the floor, drawn by the weight of her pain, she takes a detour from her daily path and comes to the shrine to cry.
On the other side of the realm, opposite sunshine and beauty, she feels at ease with the shadows and the cold.