Why is it that I hold the spirit of one long since dead? Of a by-gone era? The grey winds have erased the last trace of my heart's time. Here in the harsh artificial light, my cheeks must reflect an alien green sheen. Yet in front of this machine, I spend my everyday, wasting the limited youth bestowed upon me. Where be some human to speak these thoughts and to whom cry such silent tears? Instead of a white screen to record the etching in the cavern of my heart. God has shown me a world of fantasy and beauty, that comes in my mind, in my imagination, yet I have not the talent to enlighten the world around me. My world - no one understands and no one can share. In this solitude, I hold tenderly the spirit of one long since dead. In a world not my own, I can only drift until some the wind has swept me aside as well.