The circle is viscous and intoxicating. The periphery seems safe, but a mere glimpse of the vortex that lies ahead acts likes a magnet. All you long for is to taste the poison and not indulge, but then the poison stays true to its quality and spreads like wild fire. Being back at the periphery is a safe, comforting feeling. Being the spectator feels nice, but your actions have sown seeds for the epidemic that’s there to follow. Makes you ponder on the self-professed words, why rumble, why not be the audience and the fight by itself shall settle down. Retrospection has always been and continues to be a bitch. Pinpricks will always come, when will I move beyond being numb? Pink Floyd you rascals!