Fall of the Wings of Death

How harsh is the grip of life when it squeezes without breaking, and how difficult are those moments when someone demolishes the sand houses you built with your own hands on the seashore! How beautiful is death in the arms of those we love, or what we call beautiful death; it has a different flavor, but only a few will enjoy it. I have begun to feel that fleeting isolation, the coldness of the prickly darkness with its dim blue light, and the force of the approaching storm. I leave this novel in your hands and the regret and remorse it conceals, for the doors have been closed in my face, and mercy has been stripped from my heart. I did it and committed my sin, and I realized that I had fallen in love with myself, and I could no longer back down from what the tragedies have led to.