No.70
My surrounds? An empty room. One would call it empty, if that one where to visit and not live a grinding routine, day in night out, all inside this room. A service to the One.
All Must Serve.
The grinding of routine goes much deeper than moving one's to morph pixels into what looks realer than reality. A trench embedded in my consciousness from before the time the proteins in my parents body's began to form what would be me. In essences I am exactly what they made me, and I am One.