This is a world that has ended. Nothing is born. Nothing dies. Time doesn’t even exist. If I were searching for a place to be born, then I know it should not be here. There is another being here. Can she see me? I am not born to this world. A girl who lives alone in this world that ended. The girl who lives in a vacant, unmoving world. For some reason, she interests me.
I was born into this world to seek her, sacrificing all the things I would have gained from a life in a new world. The girl made my body from scrap she had collected from somewhere. My memory is stagnant. I cannot recall anything even if I exert effort. Where I had been until now, or where I was trying to go…
I cannot talk with this girl. But this is the one and only warmth I seek in this world. Although, since I am made of scrap, I cannot feel the warmth.
What is this light? This light, which shone brilliantly from time to time, was impossible to touch. So maybe this light might be a shadow. If it’s a shadow, the source must be somewhere else. Perhaps something in a different place, or in a different world, was bringing them to life.
A means for us two to play. Even if the girl wanted to play, if I weren’t around she wouldn’t be able to. What is this girl thinking every day, all by herself? In such a lonely world, all alone?
Is there another world out there, connected to this sky? If so, a past me would be there. Possibly in a lively, warm world. For now, with this lonely girl, I live in a world that has ended. Where nothing dies and time doesn’t exist. For some reason I stay. This is the lonely world.