The Silent Existence - Part 2

Who am I, what am I doing here, what is the purpose of my life?
As the piano sound sneaks into my ears, the existential questions I have get more and more complicated, perhaps I get obsessed with everything I interact with. I can smell the melancholy in the shadows of a light floating in the smoke of my cigarette, the glasse turns into a shining diamond, the wind is stoking my skin, and suddenly an empty mind or maybe a full one, but the words can’t express. Who am I? Now I am soul, a heavy one.