Hierarchical relationship between you and the people above and below

The second floor of an apartment building was crushed.

The connections between the buildings were misaligned and tilted.

In a big earthquake.

It was burned into your memory. 

You decided never to live in a building. 

When you told that to your mother, 

she scolded you, saying that 

everyone has their own circumstances. 

And now 

you have been living in the same building for twenty years. 

(You think 
it was because you didn't own it.)

The hierarchical relationship between you and the people above and below.

The people you don't know.

Humans, piled up on top of each other. 

You imagine

a small hill arising as the tomb.

The dead were buried in the hole and collapsed.

The next dead were buried in the same hole and collapsed again.

Eventually.

You consider the death rate.

More than ten people die in your building in every year. 

Your apartment building is one grave marker. 

The island where skyscrapers are lined up is one graveyard.

But actually,

there is not a single body buried on the island.

My partner's parents closed their graves 

and bought a collective cemetery 

at the temple across the river. 

You are no longer worth it. 

There's no way to do it.

The river flows exactly right
in front of you.