...where Jiyong is a problem child who doesn't know how to stay put...

...and at some crossroad, Jiyong meets Seunghyun...

... and Seunghyun is a stoic, who can no longer move...

"You see Jiyong, every one in my life are like flames... They begin in embers. It's almost cute. But then they burn, and some people are cigarette breaks, but you... well, you are a goddam forest fire."

Seung hyun is a successful man by most people's standard. He started a grassroot company before he celebrated his nineteenth birthday, and now in his mid thirties, his once humble, but impressively stubborn idea has bloomed, flourished, and bore fruit. Back then, he was just dreamer with his head up in the clouds... and now he felt so grounded, like all that success has finally gutted him and all his dreams bled out of his eyes. Was he really the idealist back then? In the long trek in the desolate desert of pusuing dreams, has he lost himself? He scans the skyline where at some point he really did think the heaven and earth meet like they were always one, split into two because the human mind had no capacity of understanding that heaven and hell is one in infinity... Seung just stared at the horizon. How much did he pay for this high rise building for this view, when the orange sun dyes everything bright yellow, and everything is burning. Heat bounces in waves from building glass panes and he could see everything, the evaporation of the soul. He was losing it. He was losing it.

Or has he lost it before, and only realized that he has nothing on the inside, where everyone ing insists counts.

Because the capitalist dreams fulfilled is cold cereal after a long night of boozing on hopes and dreams of greatness.

He doesn't know. Even his bull is so dreamy, he couldn't figure out if he had spent his whole life asleep.

He just feels like, while he stares at a bird pierce through a cloud and for all he knew emerged out the other side, or died, or whatever, he like he was going to die soon.

Perhaps by choice.

His lips broke to a smile. All the struggle only for life to swallow him whole. At the end of it, at the last page of life, he would stand and fall of the page only to realize the book goes on without him.

It no longer matters.

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