A girl in a tattered kimono, with a strange light flickering in her eyes, stands on a neon-lit street in the pouring rain. She holds a blooming black rose tightly in her hand. Beneath her feet is a cracked asphalt road, from which a gentle pink light oozes out of the cracks, as if a gentle world lies beneath the ground. Beside her floats a group of translucent plush doll-like ghosts, their faces twisted into grins, extending their slender fingers to gently touch her shoulders, as if comforting her and yet as if mocking her. In the background is a distorted night view of Tokyo, with the glass windows of skyscrapers reflecting her pale figure, yet the reflection of her is smiling. A crack splits open in the sky, revealing a huge, gentle eye fixed on her. Raindrops condense into translucent butterflies, fluttering around her, their wings filled with Japanese characters that are hard to make out. Her shadow stretches long behind her, yet at the end of the shadow extends a pair of female hands, gently holding a withered daisy. The entire scene is tinged with humor amid sadness, tenderness lurking within horror, with stark contrasts of light and shadow, details as delicate as strands of hair, like an ink-wash oil painting woven from a surreal nightmare and a fairy tale, brimming with contradictory poetic charm.