ID : Quest, in ink.
I once read a story about a man who had become so sad involved in society's whirl that he decided to isolate himself from the world and went into the mountains.
In solitude he reached the depths of sadness and as the years went by, he had turned motionless. The shrubs, the lichens and small birch trees had grown all over him.
One day, into the nothingness, he hears a faint sound coming from above : a few baby birds were nesting right on his head.
He is awaken to the realization that even for the smallest assistance that can be given, for the most ephemeral act of kindness, life has purpose.