Light enters the room and that Vanilla Sky moves into a vision currently waiting for a sign. Clinging to a fading ability to express thought is the action of the day. Columbian coffee slips within the tomb of energy attempting to stir the senses. The absence of a muse, who could bring rebirth to the mind, has an impact similar to that silence resembling creative asassination. The hunt has begun. Where are the depths of youthful affection and temptation? The once ruling Kingdom of Nature is now dying under those hungry steps in humanity's progress to fulfill its greed of the soul. Ripped up images of distant lands, which are isolated from view, cure the desire and fear of entering that realm of the unknown again. What is the purpose of it all? What are the reasons for taking one direction and not being persuaded by the other in this maze of a confusing life?
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