I’m tempted to spill all the sensory memories into words, it was unbelievable with what I’ve seen and heard, fiction or otherwise. Though it made me doubt whether as a person of privilege, have I not taken enough risks to come out just as ordinary and sane as any Tom on the street. Maybe not. That’s the least I could do to make up for my existence, but apparently, it’s another one of those tiny adorable poppy meadows that are a nuisance to elude but kept around anyway for God knows what. An intervention, perhaps? One must be either totally ignorant or intelligently cunning to believe themselves to be the genius playing every card with a golden shower encore, or the devil who invents the game. A treaty between the devil and a genius is merely a child’s board game, it doesn’t sound quite threatening, if only one of them is you.