Hope feels like she's between the clouds the moment she took the brush and the scent of paint tickles her nose. It's always been like this. Her thought would swim to a thousand planets and no one could stop her. Lee is that typical punk ,cold,mysterious guy straight from YA novels with tattoos all over his porcelain skin that could make any girl swoon over him. The form made out from paint, ink, and brushes has always depict a thousand meanings. And this applies to Hope and Lee as well, cause their way of interpreting may leads into a discovery of something important in their friendship.

They say it was nothing. But everything is always nothing. Even death.

Who's to blame?