A little foreword
I write about the old, as well as the new, about what was once true but now no longer.
When everything I had painstakingly built crumbled, I hugged the ground and cried, not out of regret but liberation. Amidst the smokey shambles, the obscured have become clear. And I found myself gazing endlessly into the cracks of the ruins, where tiny shoots, half covered by the haze, steadfastly reached for the sky.
– Mihan