Gaze into the mirrored face of the aging drunk man. See the blurred innocence of the departed boy. There are no other worlds to conquer. This one holds danger enough. War, women and whiskey dance their destruction. We only get the face we earn. A man becomes what a man does, but sometimes that canβt be helped. Eternally recurring Mulligan, of boundless hope. The turning Dharma wheel. Perhaps a thousand more lives must be lived to undo this doing, to break the bonds of Karma, to finally sink into the warm, welcoming arms of peace. A weary trek but worthy.