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The giants created by the nature deity, adapted to prolonged exposure to darkness, have learned to burn a spark of poisonous flame from their own hopes for rays of light. They heroically live the way, as if the forest is Japan of the 12th century, and the bark is the armor of a samurai. Each leaf becomes a deadly sharp shuriken that cuts the darkness ahead, the darkness of today, and the darkness of the day to come. Absorbing every step forward in order to leave it as a true imprint, a trace on the surface of the infinity of your own years in the museum of memory artifacts of everything that was and everything that will be. Like a monument. Like a statue that gives hope, touching which will remind you that even that became a stone, once breathing the same air with us.