"No.

Of all the things I don't know. That one, I do.

I can see the threads of Fate. Bound in the tapistry. And I know when mine ends.

What about yours?"

"Then I am to give, yeah? To make something."

In his head. That's how it works.

"Why not? Life does nothing *but* devour."

"Seems accurate."

He spoke. Reaching down. A a flower is absorbed in his hand. An attempt to understand.

One that fails. His eyes squint.

He shrugs.

"Never forgot that."

Man of few words- when he can't read the script. His green eyes stare past walls of inexistence.

A life without validation- is no better than one in slavery.