Throngs of thoughts pass through our mind each day, thousands by their count, and none of them have a life of their own. Sometimes referred to as products of mental excretion, far too often do they enter into us and receive an unjustly free reign on all our sensibilities. We change like chameleons from one moment to the next, and we are ignorant to this fact in equal measure to our ignorance of the foreign nature of these insistent phantoms. Like gears and bolts, volted into action like mechanical dominos, we think, feel and therefore act in patterns that are as predictable as they are accidental.