With the arrival of spring, this city is imbued with the dry scent of dust and smoke. Sometimes it seems to me that coming back here was a futile endeavor. It didn’t change anything. It only delayed the approach of the inevitable downfall we’ve been rushing towards for the past few years. It’s even interesting to wonder how much longer this agony will last and how it will ultimately end. Of course, I’d like to go back and do everything over again. But that’s the main curse of time — it moves only forward.