In a world of constant confusion, when does the mind stop wanting to know? When does the mind stop thinking rationally, and instead thinks irrationally? When does the mind stop thinking of being better, and instead just thinks of being? When does the mind stop dreaming, and when do they think they can’t dream at all? When does a human give up, and why did they ever think giving up could be an option? This reality is a scary world filled with the thickened smog of disaster and beauty, both dancing in an epilogue of magnificence, like the strange beauty of a ruined castle decorated with the ripest of vines and the greenest of mosses. Reality is a beauty undefinable, because it has no equal, and no comparison to brace itself against.