"Where is the peace, where is the solace?"

What controls that human synthesizer of the human mind? What controls what we remember and when? How is it that out of the blue memories from twenty years distant resurface with the potency of cyanide? How can it be that dreams can kill? All our putrid lives we spend trying to make sense of the charade, yet in the end some unseen force seems to have our lives in a vice. Vice. Vice versa. Versa major. Majora clitoris. Is it this force we are seeing in films, some inhuman empirical monster that watches with the hedonistic delight of making us squirm? Living life in the box, in a fish aquarium, squirming rats in and endless maze… “Where is the peace, where is the solace? Got to find it… got to find it….”