Her aesthetic and rare existence falls under the grip of her chest. The fact that she is a very good adventurer, she explore
intelligence and art in combination with her connections to the most valuable virtue. Zanereia is the foundation of lullaby and formula of math— hard to define the term but is something different and mysterious. To be like a wisteria flower, she blooms to death and defy the
contradiction that snipe her in as like a viper and cobra that clings to the holy tree of divinity. Her power stands as a prose that is deep, a pit of
vain and tears falling into the island of theories and original words as how vernaculars were made, only for a tribal culture following her path and history to the segregation of bones and blood. She is like the flesh of an angel, softly hanging, perished by madness and decaying at the same stage where memories were flashed, at the moment she speaks about how the world will become. After all, she is extremely
extraordinary and pleasingly beautiful.
