When you live in a city that brings you no purpose of happiness, nothing is fine. Nothing is OK. Nothing gives you high spirits. But my father, before he passed, he used to bring me to this cave in one of the mountains near our city. He’d told me, “Sometimes when you’re living in hell, going higher can make it all feel so small.” It was like being in heaven when he was with. Now he’s as high as high gets, and I feel like I’m not high enough.