Of all the rivers of life pouring outward, here and now to quench the thirst, men are taught instead to consume from the mouth of a faucet. A hypnotic mantra is in the air as the iron hives keep close to a bustling rhythm that knows no end. Yesterday’s scriptures are enforced today as cultures hobble towards a story they seem to mutually co-conceive. Questions are answered before they are asked, excuses formed before mistakes are made, and the narrative follows its tune like clockwork. The flock move together like waves, sharing the strange dream, while at times a head or two poke up to look around. A perfume splashes to knock the skulls back down to the level of the herd, and so it goes on for the sake of waxing and waning smiles. A shepherd appears to be missing amidst all the traffic and assigned commotion, but an order, however insane, is salvaged day by day. The conspiracy itself is innocent, leaving no one to blame.