The crash of a modern is silent. It seems that all is well, he laughs, he plays, he does society stuff. It’s peaceful at the surface, but below the surface, there’s actually too much annoyance. Without breaking glasses, without weeping or crying his heart out, he might get exhausted just in the next second. Doesn’t feel like talking very much, nor that kind of crash. Doesn’t feel like breathing, and just doesn’t have this courage to leave everything behind.