"In this book, everyone is a little lost, everyone is a little on the way, and everyone is a little bit 'no one'."
Sometimes a story doesn't need a hero. It has neither an end nor a definite beginning. It simply tells itself.
This book is the silent journey of a lost identity, beginning with a button , a torn page , or a ring offered by a stranger on a hill. The narrator has no name, nor a voice , but their tracks remain. Every chapter is a trace-like a single stone of an earring, an oar from a rowboat, searching for the remnants of the past.
The traveler pauses in an abandoned house with a forgotten note reading, "I will be back soon" , and in an inn carrying the shadow of those who vanished. As the forest expands like a secret , the traveler seeks their reflection in the water and finds a face that is the mirror of a familiar sadness. They encounter the headline "He was coming, he never arrived" at a silent station , and find a map marked "HERE" among the yellowed flowers in the desert.
Every step is a confrontation:
· The Mirrored Cabin: A person who, at the end of the journey, sees that everything leads back to themselves and embraces their own emptiness.
· Incomplete Traces: A cycle where every trace left is erased by another trace.
· The Feast of Want: The test of resistance against insatiable desires, offered on gold plates, where the only thing unsatisfied is meaning.
This is not a roadmap, but the architecture of lostness. Because what is sought is sometimes not to be found, but to leave a mark. And the answers we seek are the very absence itself.
OASIS is the place where you become lost.
In other words, this story, perhaps, is the story of us all.
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