Years pass, one after another, and we grow into our skins and become who we are…
rebels or conformists, we all do our best to be comfortable in our own skins,
and we grow to be so, one way or another.
And then we notice that the edifice we built for ourselves is built on ruins –
decaying empty rooms, some boarded up, some decorated in cloying pastels, all – dead…
How do you replace the foundation when you live on the second floor?
