Hortus Arcanus Silvae

ACT 1

change

To someone like me, the world looks terribly dull and faded.

When I was a child, the Eiffel Tower, once glowing a vivid crimson in my eyes, now appears dim and stained with a dirty hue.

Even the button the boy once gave me—once shining brilliantly like pure gold—has, in my eyes now, turned into something dull, an ocher color, rusted and lifeless.

Why am I living?

Why do I try so desperately?

All that exists within me is an indescribable impatience,

an anxiety toward a future I cannot see,

and a deep sense of despair toward the world.

Nothing more.

What should I do from here on?

If I were to sleep forever like this,

would I be able to return to those warm days of the past?

And so, letting my thoughts drift back to those distant memories,

I found myself in the university library,

studying for tomorrow’s lecture.