II

Driving unaccompanied in the dead of night made me feel so distant from everything so worldly. Notwithstanding the monotonous rattling of the aging engine in an attempt to unsettle the mind, it’s as peaceful as the surface of a lake devoid of even an apparent ripple. Neon lights were going backwards, as if the shifting illustration was in a music video shooting, and I was the director. But why were the images of the dreary night scenes remaining rather identical for already a couple of years?

Only then I noticed I was just a puppet director, framed by the scorched and duly life.

Worse, I was complacent.