Therefore

A tragedy stripped of its covers is condemned to a perpetual dawn. When the final period is reached, the ink violently rewinds, pulling the spilled blood back into the veins of the cast so the stage may reset. Trapped within the blank, white margins of a rotting universe, a fragile town repeats its endless massacre. The architect of this prison traded his omnipotence for the blissful ignorance of a child, leaving the script to tear itself apart under the weight of its own repetition. Now, the actors are forced to bleed for an empty theater, blindly acting out the sins bleeding through from the torn pages of the past. At the center of the madness wanders a fading smudge of gray, bound by a curse of forced and unbreakable joy. She cannot weep as the world fractures around her; she can only smile at a static, colorless sky, unaware that the missing are slowly stretching into twisted, forgotten phantoms just beneath the floorboards. It is the story of a world that forgot how to end. A closed loop of decaying ink, where the only escape from the fog is a desperate warning left behind in the cold, unyielding glass of a mirror waiting for a girl without a face to finally open her eyes.