In the coldness of death, no one is frightened. Swathed in ice and frost, the corpses arise from the ground to reach the make-believe sun. In this world where breathing is not aloud, the only sign of life is the warmth the corpses give off while being in contact with one another. When they touch, their body fuse and their mutual souls elevate, creating a new being in the process.

Wonderful stories happen in the darkness. It is a comfortable place for the wounded, where they can heal in peace while the rest of world think they are incapable of surviving. In the coldness of death, painful memories freeze, leaving shivering spirits free. The fog protects them from judgements, and the snow entertains their spleen. As they become lighter, freed from their nightmares, the spirits evaporate in the ray of lights and shine.

Invisible to human kind, they celebrate their liberation, and as they reach the skies, they send hope and patience from afar. They send beams of pale light and scatter the warmth they have once felt through their frozen bodies. From this foreign cold world they live in, they look down on us, compassionate, and filled with love.