This is a desolate, cold world, an endless ice plain underfoot where dark blue seawater surges beneath the heavy ice layer. In those depths, it seems there are other things, but hindered by the ice, they can only weakly knock against the cold surface, mixing eerie friction sounds with the cold wind.
The stars gather into a river of stars that pierce the night sky, spreading from one end of the horizon to the other, occupying the entire field of vision.
Lorenzo watched the figure standing against the full moon, countless emotions surged in his heart, but in the end, he found himself unable to say anything, just gazing across at him until the man walked to his side and sat on the solitary bench.
"Doesn't this place feel like the absurd dream of an artist?"
He sat down casually, his shabby coat unfit for warmth, yet he seemed unbothered by the cold, casually judging the world.
