There are so many things in the world... amazing, interesting, beautiful and horrible. Nature, people, books, films, paintings, sculptures, other things, that people make with love.
New places, new roads... whole world in front of me.
I work. I play. I walk. I laugh. I talk. I read. I write. I draw. I smile. I live. Actually, my life is full.
Always with a dark hollow in my soul.
Why? Why I'm not interested in all of this?
What can I do then?