In just one week, I visited several tombs, all with each distinct smell. This one,however, carried the ironically caramelized scent of delicately murdered corpses.The ancient echoes of this childish joy factory still ringing out, wild and nonchalant.
As well as childhood, the smooth and sweet caramel oldly made by this "foundry of sugary delights" has since hardened.
Life was the only monster with the ability to stuff these treats.

The stoic familar orphan came from nowhere, carrying a symbol of authority in his sharp eyes.
"You'll see, this place is pure heaven."
Behind his uniform, the man hides the deep splinters of longing and loneliness.
This child, sculpted by the moon itself, was raised in the ditty of the talentuous forest.
"Their is a stench of decaying corpses haunting the atmosphere, dear policeman... Where did the hell do you get this job?" I said, inhaling the candied smell that caressed my nostrils.

"Save your breath for later murderous child, what awaits will steal it away."

Following the footsteps that former manufacturers made anciently, Joo-seo and I made our way to the forsaken place.
The first thing that catches my attention is the pink panted walls. Their colour varies from delicate blush tones to vibrant fuchsia, creating a contradicting aesthetic that intermingled inoffensive decoration and unmistakable stench of human decay

Broken vats and rusted machinery sat in a loud mutism in the obsolete mixing room. Cracked jars of faded "Fairy Dust" and cute cobwebs drape lay across  forgotten shelves.
The further and deeper we went in our walk, the closer I felt from the dead bodies.
There, in the dim corners , are distributed the felons' bodies, all assuming their fate. Their kismet were drawn by dark shades of authentic aquarelle paint and gestured in grotesque postures that prove their past malfeasance.
One of them stood on all fours, a leash wrapped around his neck, and was attached to the hand of a sculpted interpretation of an angel. On his face was a gash that exquisitely formed the term "slave." Another villain was nailed to the wall with bloody staples. Pencils ran through his limbs until they reached his internal organs. While on his large forehead was written in black pen "No school then die".
And some fifty other people were standing in artistic positions.
On the walls of the room was a realistic hand-drawn fresco. It interpreted a cinema where a number of children equal to the number of corpses sat with an evil smile.
On each child's clothing was a reddish fingerprint that was identical to the blood that covered each criminal's shoot.
"This art is interweaving metaphor and antithesis. Every model in my work, every sculpture, is drawn in a deep sense of vengeance. My soul expressed itself, and I created. I liberated my rage and the children from the grip of their parents. I am an artist, a true artist." Joo-seo infuses his soul with his own kind of enamel. He struck a short pose before settling back into his misunderstood delirium.
"But, alas, in all the hubbub of joy where orphans sing freedom, two people are missing from the rendezvous." He looked at me right in the eye.
His eyeballs violently crossed my retina."We must join them. Let's find and destroy our parents."
I plunged into a self hush, hesitating to move my oral cavity."But I already got rid of my mother. And my father, too, is dead."
"I'm talking about your true progenitor. I'm talking about that man whose eyes are covered with a silver coating, the one whose beauty is dazzling but remains deceptive. I'm describing you, Eirian, the terrorist of your historical timeline, Eirian, your father."