The old man is fading away. His mind is a wasteland ruined by the years he has spent. Surrounded by shadows. Surrounded by doubts. He's leaving these spheres. He's leaving this town. No excuses, no regrets. His heart is restless, so close to the end. Fading gently, fading to grey. He's slowly heading towards his grave. Cold, fragile and alone, just as he was born. No excuses, no regrets. His heart is restless. His heart is dead.