From beginning to end it is just a long monologue and narration.
However, enough is enough.
When the existence of ordinary and then mediocre life becomes a matter of course, the hustle and bustle in life will surge up. We maliciously condone their promiscuous substitution of life itself. Only when life lies naked in front of us, will we be surprised by its simple to cruel primitive existence.
All we've been doing is tearing the lives we're dissatisfied with to shreds and stitching them back together as they are.
Leave a scar.
But life is often moved not from its own glory, but from a kind of sincerity.
Whether gorgeous or broken.
As the title, a kind of sincerity.
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