And now, my frail skelton of a spirit, withering in the endless waves of entertaining stimulus, overfed to the point of nutrient deficiency, all sick with the modern cuisine of popularizing ignorance. How much has changed? Came and went? Are the feelings of each human heart truly so similar? What wondering is there then? What tragic pondering would make sense of all this? What delicate orchestrator oversees such a sad dance? Breaking the tiny parade for small flames that fizzle out in the mass void. What of our pain! Pain! Just tiny sparks dying in the endless night.