Rarity is sad.
Why? Because of a statue. Or more precisely, because of herself, of who she is or who she wants to be.

This is the story about the statues that everypony try not to notice, not to give any attention whatsoever, about those pitiful statues laying all around the cities, seemingly waiting for all eternity against all odds, for something that seems like it will never come.

This isn't a sad story, it's about hope. Because I want some.