I have cried tears, the sound of scratches on the coffin of dead years. I spent time in Ancient hours discovering myself. I yearned for victory above the sun, peace below it.

Yet, I was in the fevered misery of economic despair…
That region, with its laborious trades of factories, empty compassions, and wasteful actions is a cesspool of mediocrity. We had the Magicians, the glorified Souls, the Angels of wild hearts who tinge its air with their Light…
But they were crucified upon the cross of ignorance,
bleeding...