It's hard to write in a place like this. I open the window, and all I see is concrete, and the sound of traffic going by incessantly, without abatement.

I understand now the reason why one would lose their soul here to the money god if they're not careful. This salary factory is like a natural cycle that cannot be changed or challenged, unless if you leave.

Though I am here for the long term, I miss my trees, my backyard, and the snow. Though the assimilation is ongoing, and I may soon forget them too. As a part of life, we tend to live on, like a ghost in a shell.

Is it true? When I wake up, I will forget everything, get into my car, and drive for kilometres to work without even thinking about it.

It's just the way it goes.