Our age becomes not our own, but held captive to the desires, dreams, and precautions of others. With time we forget our own realities and embrace uncertainty, uncertain of who we are, who we could ever be. The light gets dimmer. Our flame, our so close ever touchable flame is dying before our eyes. The world, THE WORLD. It’s relentless shaping and molding and crushing and slamming and mixing turning spinning into this reformed and altered you.
