Xelda is completely fed up. She's tired of seeing the same repetitive pattern over and over again, a cry that emerges from the depths of her being but gets trapped in the void, as if no one is willing to listen. It's disheartening to see how no one recognizes the obvious: everything repeats itself, the same deception cloaked in different colors. Despite diverting her creative flow to new lands, the pattern persists, lurking, waiting to reappear with renewed strength and even greater power. The art of living to create and creating to live remains her motto, resilient against monotony and lack of vision.