Racism only matters if you make a fuss about it. Sadly enough, much of what is perceived is brought by the very subject of the so-called discrimination himself. Rather than engaging in idle talks, I choose to utter my words of cynicism in gentle indifference. Aye, neither belief in the Friend nor faith in humanity matters as much as the identification of the inner spirit, which the speaker dares not to address with the capitalized "I", reserved for our Friend. Tragedies happen; there's no denial to that; yet what is more tragic than the loss of soul itself? Like an empty shell buried in the desert whose core is replaced by dust, it serves no value. We once spoke of those more glorious days, of the Sun and the Historical Inevitability, the Idea, and the likes, when we were young and poor; now we aren't struggling for subsistence anymore, and instead we happily satiate our ego with a bourgeois existence of suburbia, through the false claim of "I" as an individual subject and its worship. Ah, self-interest, how I love thee--as much as I'd like to once more repeat that brilliant idea to swim across the backyard pools of those identical houses. But, no, the balloon doesn't have to pop yet; in this fairy land we are each granted our "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness", to which, of course, we might as well add those prophetic lines: "war is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strength". After we pay a rightful royalty and some extra dues to its brilliant socialist creator, we might as well claim that to be our own; just expect some lawsuit or two from those pill companies, which claim ownership to the same lines. Hmm, perhaps the soft field of irrationality can serve the same effect? Ha-ha-ha, Candid laughs, and continues to cultivate his own garden. And I, waking up the next morning, found that butterfly in my dream particularly worthy of analysis. Like the sun that melts the ice, our claim to truth and omnipotence burn through any structure of counter-balance. Fine, fine, I shall cease my pointless utterance. Yet it cannot be forgotten: vanity, vanity of vanities, all is vanity.