Our eyes dart back and forth to a bucket list of wants and desires. The trouble is the bucket is bottomless, and everything in it is imaginary. The modern world creates men who pursue imaginary needs. After all, this big machine of economy can only grow insofar as its units, the people themselves, pursue more and more of its seemingly infinite array of senseless production. The imaginary meanings to life are proclaimed with ink, paint, song, and now even by binary code. Such a thing as identity loses itself along the way and instead of men and women pursuing the deeply satisfying realities of the natural world — the truly wholesome and simple — they chase towards products like dogs to motorcars. It is a senseless chasing of tails, with our strength sapped from its source and relayed away to a ceaseless pursuit of the next whimsical delight. Yet as their energy abates and men fall back to rest, a nagging feeling of doubt and uncertainty can sometimes appear, like a haunting whisper that brings one to a sudden halt.