I just want to reinforce this point: when you get up in the morning, and look at yourself in the mirror: liken to; ten stray dogs, whom gather eagerly each afternoon; and with such anticipation, and await, a little old homeless woman who feeds them, with shit she's salvaged from the garbage bins, that day: It is your day; it is with their eagerness, and gusto, one justifies their reflection each morning, and with-it, one faces the world. Then to preserve face, and life, and that of persona is not always enough: but for the day at least, one can throw shadow to the wall - as the rest; and, along side those whom gather for pennies from the system, to feed the machine; it's through your personal existence alone, not to be hidden behind such fancy constructs, but for the truth, it only humours you by each false attempt - you're animal at best, at least.

Music to inspire : : Wolfsheim - Blind (Auditorium) : :