Cell.

It comes. It goes. A bystander in my own life. The bubble I live in. The rigorous venture to feel what's outside.

"I am a stranger to myself. I hear my tongue speak, but my ears find that voice strange. I may see my hidden self laughing, crying, defiant frightened, and thus does my being become enamored of my being and thus my soul begs my soul for explanation. But I remain unknown, hidden, shrouded in fog, veiled in silence."

-Khalil Gibran

The misery of an unfortunate.

The extinct irrevocable chances.

The right to uncertain and contingent memory.