Aisede

Rotten dreams plague our minds with delusions of hope and inspiration. Do the same people who would chastise this dialogue see what brews below the surface of the stoic man? Can they feel his heartache, experience his sorrows? Have they ever looked at the world and seen it devoid of color and meaning, but go on with the motions of life like an automaton?

How many of us, I wonder, live like that. Adrift in the void, grasping for anything to cling onto. Gasping for air when there's none to breath.