Death sometimes becomes a very happy and extravagant thing.

believed in guessing at this time, and had a profound view on it.

He curled up and rolled back and forth on the ground, his eyes almost staring out, his face full of scratches, almost deep bones.

No one tormented him. He was tormenting himself, screaming plainly and bitterly, but he could not stop holding his hand and gripping his face as if something terrible had got into his body.

This is a bamboo building built with bamboo poles. It's on the second floor.

The Golden Triangle is full of such buildings.

In addition to facing the door, there are more...