Chapter 40 between ten years

between ten years in the forgotten land Years, entangled with the bells on the yoke Ringing all night, the road is shaking Respite under heavy load adapted into a song is sung everywhere woman's necklace at the sound of a mantra ascended into the air as if fulfilled Fluorescent dials ring lewdly at will Time is as honest as a pig iron fence Except for the wind that has been pruned by dead branches no one can cross or come and go flowers that only bloomed on books Imprisoned forever, mistress of truth And yesterday's broken lamp so brilliant in the minds of the blind in suddenly opened eyes

Leave the last portrait of the murderer