This fleeting movement has become a part of me. A perennial longing for the elsewhere, a constant criticism of the present. Assimilated inasmuch as dissatisfaction vents its venturing spleen, scattered in the plausible reality of the present. Alone with the vices, not even nature can reach me here, not in this mass matrix of technology and conformity. Elemental disposition, disinterested souls and poised appearances, the misleading syndicate of mankind’s humility towards himself. Acceptance is key, rejection a displacement, neutrality an affable luxury at the dispense of an entire generation inseparable by age, gender and ecology, unified In the righteous individuality of role playing and regularity.