You're finishing your last strokes. Here it is: your magnum opus, a masterpiece, and an insurmountable peak that you think you will never reach again. Your whole tragic life seemed to be in this picture. You leave the small apartment as it is, in complete disarray, and climb to the top of the building. "An interesting picture!" You hear it and turn around. No one. The voices in your head have often accompanied you lately, and it doesn't even surprise you anymore. Suddenly, before you have time to understand anything, the view of the night city disappears in front of you, replaced by a thick fog. As if in a dream, you walk and walk until you see Uncle Woo orphanage. The man who, for some reason, seems so big and tall to you now is telling you "Here! This way, my sweet. Welcome to your new home, poor thing."