The human condition so fragile, so vain. The monopoly on living the exploitation of pain and all the little things that gather in rain. Finite of words, infinitely held in the structure. And the children will wake with the sun, becoming the rabbit, becoming the run, between the obscure lined up with the pun. I thought that i knew but nothing is known, just a shot in the dark, an equation of all, the numbers expressed as a man on his ball...