throat, refusing to see the world outside, nonetheless burrow through his ears into his brain. The one whose eyes strike me down altogether, melting me into a puddle seeping through the floorboards. The simple truth is all I need. It sustains me, it pushes me to take my next breath, it pleads that I drop to my knees in the middle of the street and simply give up the charade. It reminds me of what I do not possess and what I am incapable of doing. It renders me alone and unhappy, the walking sufferer of divine discontent, always seeking more, never satisfied. One day, the sun will rise over this city. It will stain the water reds and oranges and yellows and it will paint the snow with new diamonds. In the golden glow, I will find him again.