Beneath the personality that yaps and narrates the experience of life is a simple animal that is devoid of any cultural interests. It has no clue about a man’s desire to be someone within the messy game of accruing material goods and seizing the admirations of society. It has no idea what a man is doing when he eagerly makes notes, types sentences on devices, and plans out his today and tomorrow with a sub-current of anxious anticipation. It has no understanding about past deeds and regrets or satisfactions with what was done. It only knows its present hunger for the basic requirements of subsistence and survival. It recognises the demand to feel a sense of security and to ensure that security amidst an awareness of a countless number of competitors, known and unknown. This primal nature is the reality of what a man is beyond the exaggerations his personality overlays on top of it like gaudy decorations. To it a personality is a dispensable curiosity that distorts the present moment, incessantly stressing its muscles, nerves, and psychological disposition towards the simple requirement to eat and mate. The animal that is man is far too sane to value such a make-believe persona and its cries for attention, even though it is under its every beck and call.