One of the city's new and ambitious hotels appears from the window of my study room.
I watched this hotel build day by day.
I saw the block walls that were lifted by the cranes, and the windows. With the curiosity of how many walls can be put in a day, I counted the wall gaps, the walls that have been put in place, like the teeth drawn between the columns. One day the hotel was completed, I sat in the middle of my hotel window, now when I look at the city I see the hotel. I can't remember what happened before.
I occasionally drink coffee in the café on the lower floor of this hotel. I look, I look, I think; Where the hotel's downer and dignified mystery, where this Hotel's ambitious, sterile and stylized kibri.
This place looks wild to me. Mirror of my age. Age is wild.
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