Sanctified by the flickering candlelight of Baudelaire's poetry, this year is suddenly coming to an end, dedicated to a woman who once appeared as a white-stone goddess, and when she left, she brought to her knees a pitiful mortal who believed that a woman was just a patent for satisfying his carnal beliefs.. This year is suddenly coming to an end, unfortunately giving way to a more violent one, to the nervous and alcohol-soaked sounds of Poe's prose. There is no more birdsong or candle crackling here, everything is quiet in anticipation of the murder. We are no longer in a cozy and hidden room.. everything here exclaims only one word - revenge..