Inspired by an article on the recently deceased director Raoul Ruiz.

Caught in a cycle of preconceived motivations, eroding the last scrap of free will.

The implications of an existence rules by endlessly repeated narratives.

If man only seems authentic, what is the point of living?

An endless day of nothing lies before me; master of my own empty universe. Keeping my eyes shut, I try to postpone its onset, aware of how futile the effort is. My brain is awake, has been for hours; feeling apprehensive as mundane thoughts mix with the ominous realities coming from my radio clock. Crises everywhere, but my coffee still tastes the same. Haven’t we heard it all before? It might have a new name and speak a different language, but the narrative is the same. Do we ever learn? Do we purposely keep our histories written in victory speech; our memories short, believing each experience unique, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to assert our individuality? The thrill of something new, so alluring we are willing to forgo lessons learned; falling into the same patterns, constructing an inescapable maze. But, what other choice is there, apart from the obvious one-way escape through the emergency exit? It seems we must continue to experience and subsequently forget in order to maintain the illusion of progression.