I have heard that all life can be summed up to is the correlation between the limited knowledge each individual holds in this world. Limited... knowledge... almost synonymous as they roll off the pen. This seems the disease that plagues humanity... "If only I would have known" is a phrase I hear too often. People seem to take ignorance for granted. It is not the doves duty to scammer the bottom of the oceans, just as it is not in our right to see as the trees, across this large landscape of an eight ball we call home. Don't get me wrong, for I myself am a seeker of knowledge and truth, and all that which has been idolized for millennia. Picture this... An old man sits at a park bench to read a science fiction novel. To his left, a small child is dazed, discovering the existence of his hands for the first time. A few meters off, a jaded young man kisses an interest. His heart soars and feathers inside his chest as he re-discovers his soul for the first time. The old man is oblivious to his surroundings, as the other two are. Regress three seconds in time. The old one reads, the child daydreams, the grayed young man softly strolls with his partner. Read the next line before this one... the old man cannot... See the young ones in the distance... the old man cannot... remember himself as a 20 year old, as a child, as a newborn, as unborn, as none... Remember himself as another, the old man cannot... though he try. Three seconds fleeting, looking forwards, holding back, blind to time, feeling it squeeze between your fingers, as it does your lover, your neighbor, your unwitting family member you call "fluffy." The old man looks up at his strange surroundings, and the strangers that inhabit them. He ponders his past, and that of his newfound companions. The trees sway in the breeze and softly rustle as when the pages of a notebook are slowly turned. He looks at the young man, and recalls this very moment, in Paris, when he first met his wife of thirty-seven years, were she beside him. He looks at his hands, unfamiliar now, as his face had become over the years... He has forgotten who he is, and lives in his books. He sadly looks down, trying to imagine what the life of that bright young man just out of his reach was like... "he has much to look forward to," he thinks to himself. And as he ponders what marvelous feelings will run through his neighbor, he is lost to himself, again in his mud, "it must be raining," he thinks. Warmth flows through his hands as tears fall... The child looks up, confused and shimmering from the dew that has set upon his eyes. The old man looks over, and smiles.