Why the number eleven has always had its own story for me? not something that deserves to be written here of course, but merely noted in this world, leaving a pile of pixels instead of ink rather than illuminate what I face now.

May not be a day where I commemorate the day that I was in the melting point below zero degrees. just let go and take a step forward, not to remember but rather to be a blow when recall.

Maybe there are still many things that I do not know, but nothing is impossible, unless we can become gods for ourselves. may your god bless you, may the trut hand has provided a happy day for me. thank you because from here I can better understand what is the meaning of life and the like which way to enjoy it in my own way.

At eleven, and is positioned on the lowest of the unconscious, eliminating an impression that should be proud of, but not for me, while waiting for things that kept bouncing in my brain go away by itself.