At the moment we walk in, the war breaks out.

Entangled here, harmony and conflict.

Gradually, the distance between them becomes irreparable.

The place, which once built for them, allowed them to wander between cracks.

Raveling in the endless cracks.

Every side is no longer the same face.

Every pillar is no longer the same column.

That is the time.

The time when the relationship becomes weak, while disturbances mixed in.

Perhaps detachment is the way.

The way we feel them while they exit.

Feel them in the pure things around us.

As we create the space again, the shrine will call for them.

They come, as they belong.