Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

The war is over, The battle is won.
Tired and victorious, a soldier can collapse
He may reunite with his family, his wife and son
No more grenades and bombs, no plans or maps

But the war goes on, behind his eyes
Relief suppressed, mind alert
His dreams are consumed by the blood and cries
Of those whom he killed and those left hurt

Alone at night, the battle rages
Singular in purpose, to constantly haunt
And it will continue through the ages
To punish the soldier, to jeer and taunt

Adrenaline pumping, till its uncontrollable
His brain tries to explain, his body does not heed
Images burnt into his skull make him unable
To rest, and find the peace that he needs

One day, Exhausted, he will no longer decay
With paranoia filling him to the brink
And like a flood all the hurt and guilt wash away
As the peace and relief begin to sink in

But till that day, this carries on
Him fighting a battle he just cannot win
Hopeless and confused, conflicted and torn
He repents for his ordered sin

The Stalkers' Suicide Note

To whom so ever it may concern

Unfortunate enough to find me now

Allow me to explain this troubled turn

Of events. The who, the why, the what and the how.

The first time I saw her, the first time we met

I was blown away, dazzled and amazed

She was so sensational, one could never forget

She left me speechless stunned and dazed.

From then the need to see her just grew

To watch the dimples in her cheek when she smiled

To see her soft, gorgeous hair as it flew

When she danced and leapt like something wild.

She saw me once for a second or two

Our eyes met across the hall

It was in that moment that we both knew

That it was love, and I was about to fall.

Her skin was porcelain, pristine and white

Her soft pink lips were designed to mesmerize

Like and angel, she’d glow in the morning light

Entrapping me with her emerald eyes

She moved like a goddess, both fierce and kind

And I watched her whenever she was near

I loved her darkness, her light and anything I could find

Without her, it was like I wasn’t here.

Over the months our love affair bloomed

Our need for each other grew strong

The unsaid words had me consumed

I stopped caring for right or wrong

I hungered to touch her, to be a little closer

I saw her invite me nearer with her eyes

She was with him for show. He was just a poser.

And it was the same with the other guys

But what we have is a true romance

A forbidden love, destined and great

No one else even stood a chance

Why spend all this time fighting fate.

We couldn’t be together, she and I

But I wanted to hold her, to keep her and smell her sweet scent

She was too afraid of them to let herself try

And I knew what that meant

They wouldn’t let us be together, it wouldn’t be allowed

But life is small compared to our love

So why be miserable and apart in a crowd

When we could be happy and united up above.

With a story like ours, fabled and taboo

It cannot end riding into the sunset

There was only one clear thing to do.

For her to truly become Juliet.

And for me to follow her into this eclipse

Shed the pain and stop being sad

I shall take the same poison that touched her lips

Like the kiss we never had

Eclipse

Look at the mighty sun and the light it brings

Igniting our world day after day

But dominated by such a tiny thing

When the moon covers it one fine day

And shrouds our blue skies in a darker wrap

Dulls the colours that were joyous and bright

Lulls the sun into a trap

And for a moment it conquers the light

At The Edge.

It is not uncommon, at the end of something, to look back to its beginning. It is also not uncommon to look at the previous end leading to the beginning. Graduating from college may cause you to retrace your time spent there. Leaving a place that became as familiar as home, its tough, and it doesn’t get easier the second time around. You feel the same pang of sadness as you did when you first realized you wouldn’t be wearing your school uniform anymore as you do now, when you realize that you wont be walking down those college halls anymore. You feel the same anxiety of not knowing how college would be, how the other kids would be, how you would be in this new realm of freedom and opportunity as you do now, entering another realm of responsibility and high competition, where the stakes frighteningly do matter.

Right there, standing at one precipice, I watch my sister face the next. Its all so similar yet so wildly different. But the emotions remain a constant. A fixed biological reaction to any challenge, threat or change. Doesn’t matter the situation. It’s all the same. Maybe everything will be all right. Countless others have been in my exact position, and though nearly no one gets out scot free, everyone does survive the college experience. The only thing that makes it so stressful is the waiting and the speculation. The problem is that it’ll never live up to expectation. Especially if one spends hours and days, hell, years contemplating it. Whether it’s the best or the worst, reality can never compete with imagination, so why try?

I have 10 days to the moment of truth. Am I in or am I out? In other words am I good enough? The dread is that I get a letter saying, “No, we regret to inform you that you are not, in fact, as talented as you or we thought you were and best of luck for whatever else that you can manage”. Even worse than that would be to not get any letter at all, as if saying, “not only are you not good enough to join, you’re not good enough for us to reject you either.” That’s the dread. But the fear? The fear is getting a letter which tells me all my dreams have come true, that I’m good enough, that its time to say goodbye to this old life I was sick of anyway and come, running through mustard fields like an old Hindi movie, to this new adventurous place and then be let down by what I thought it would be like.

Using this fear as a mantra, I had made a resolution to not think about it. To keep an open mind and not look at the downside of everything. Or, on the other hand, lionize the future and possibilities. The future is nothing but the next line I’m about to write, the next two seconds of thought or the next five minutes where I may get up and go to the bathroom. The future is now. And then it’s gone. Just as fast as it came. So what do I do with the future? The answer seems obvious to me. I do nothing and I do everything. 

So it doesn’t really matter whether I spend the next year in India’s premiere design institute or I spend it working in an animal shelter while taking an English course. Because its just going to come and go so fast right? But the real question that plagues me is will I matter no matter what I do? Will I make a difference? Will I affect anyone the way I want to? I’m not saying I want to rule the world…I’m just saying I want to be able to change it. I read some where that a wise man asked in the arrogance of his youth to be able to change the world. Being humbled by the truth, in his middle age he asked to be able to change those around him and in the enlightenment of his old age he asked to be able to change himself when the people around him, or the world itself, actually changed. Chances are he was probably correct, but I think I can change my world. I can make it better, I can make it brighter, I can make it happier, and I can be relevant. But I need the opportunity.

So I stand at the precipice, at the end of all I can ever remember knowing, ready to plunge into an abyss of opportunity and failure. And just as I leap off, I look up at my sister already changing the world around her, without even knowing it, and I smile. I'll be there some day.

Arranged Marriage

I only ask you what is asked of me and perform in accordance to what I have received,
Be it your frigid shoulder or your razor sharp wit.
But not an excess favor, nor any subordinate grant will be retrieved
From this most formal association of mutual benefit

Be it clear that my silence is not at power with either tolerance or acceptance
And though my words may be kind, intonation is an art of its own
So I promise you, as agreed, minimal resistance
And shall leave all the intimates unknown.

And now, almost as equals, we sign our treaty
Of parallel accountability and social obligation
Betrothed are your status and my beauty
And we shall gracefully smile and accept this relation

Now, my husband, I wish you good night
I will lie on my side and you on yours
Through the day we have performed our duties, as is right
But all pretense can be dropped behind these closed doors.

Behind the lens- smiles and frowns

This is the second set of pictures I'll be putting up. Hope you like it!

It features the lines in one's face and how just a few shifts in the angles of the lines can completely change the whole context of a photograph.

wait, are you serious?

whaaaaaattt???

wishful sadness

thats too bad

and then they all laughed

huh?

Dont sass me!!!

And then Othello....

What is happening?!?!?!

Behind the lens.

I haven't really been writing much these days, what with exams and all, and I fear that I may have neglected my blog just a teensie weensie bit. This however does not mean that I now have any writing or review to display...So, just to expand my horizons, I'm going to start posting some of my amateur photography...

Hope you like it!

 This is in loving memory of my feisty yet stubborn, grand but grumpy beauty of a horse.

Old Meldrome 

I may not have the guts to tattoo you on me like I really want, but I will remember you forever.

what're you looking at?

Because hay is to be made while the sun shines.

Let us launch.

Nibbles.

Bright Star

I do not think it is often than one watches a movie and thinks about it for more than maybe 15 to 20 minutes after it is over, then moves on to the next agenda for the day. But 'bright star' has simply left me in awe. There is no scheming or drama, no action or thrill, no glamour or glitz. It was simple and raw.

John Keats (1795-1821), lived a short life, unfulfilled, and died thinking himself a failure. On his request, his epitaph was inscribed "Here lies a man whose name was writ in water". Quite on the contrary, Keats has been compared to the likes of Byron and Shelly and often surpasses them in his reputation as a romantic poet. The movie, Bright star focuses on a short excerpt of his life, preceding his death, where he meets and falls in love with one, Fanny Brawne.

The emotions Keats is able to convey with just a few words, the musings he states so simply makes me think for hours about things that would not have otherwise struck me. The poetry is beautiful, describing love and desires, admiring nature and overlooked nuances, seeing and imagining things that would not seem viable in todays context. But so much has happened since then to the world, that i do not think one can find a genuine contemporary romantic poet without feeling him to be somewhat of a sham. There is to much death and destruction and cynicism and cliche'  that fill the world today so that to actually admire a thing of beauty in hopes that it would last forever is futile for alas, it would pass into nothingness and possibly be replaced by a steel and glass concoction often found at a shopping mall or the shopping mall itself. He beautifully says in one of his letters to fanny, that he almost wished they were butterflies and would live but 3 summer days, for three such days with her was worth more than 50 dull years without her. Today, I would take the three days of summer as a butterfly because even 50 exciting years would not be satisfactory. There is something lovely about having a limitation or a deadline that makes you want to enjoy yourself and take full advantage of the little time. Too much time seems to me like a curse. If you have time, you have opportunity to delay for 'later'. And by missing out in hopes of later, a thing of beauty could pass into nothingness before you have had to opportunity to feel the joy of actually seeing it.

The love between Keats and Franny is epic. In the movie, it is appreciable to see Franny's side to it. The waiting and wondering, the anxiety of not hearing from him, and the thrill of receiving one of his letters is completely unimaginable and abstract to me. I think it is, in fact, the distance and lack of constant contact and communication that makes the story all the more sad and so much more romantic. To see the effect he had on her, slowly turning into an obsession of sorts, is a new experience all together. I am not sure what has intrigued me more, Keats and his poetry or Franny and her fascinations. Their relationship was exactly the definition of romantic. Sweet and soft and sad. The moments the share when they are together and the things they say to each other are so organic and honest and true, and so lacking in today's world where everything sounds like a 'line'.

All in all I would say it is a must watch film for all the romantics and closet romantics (much like myself) out there. It is a movie that has in-turned hooked me on to the subject of the movie, Keats.  It made me want to know more, read more and learn more about Keats, which is not what I can say about most movies. So i leave you with a quote and a link incase you want to see what I'm talking about!

Bright Star

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art -

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors -

No - yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever - or else swoon to death.

LINK TO 'BRIGHT STAR'

Just a li"l sugar, sugar!

Sometimes you know its bad when even a horse is mocking you!

After her mothers untimely demise.

What do you say to someone when their whole world comes to a grinding halt?
And they look around,
At life in motion, puzzled.
The people did not pause and busses did not break down.
The traffic lights were working and cars were honking.
The beggars on the road running up to cars performing amusing tricks for money.
People on the street walking, policemen in the corner talking.
Nothing stopped.

The world just ended, didn't they know?

Absolute power corrupts absolutely with respect to 'Animal Farm'

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. So often has this quote has been associated to animal farm… the question is why?  What is it about power that it corrupts even the noblest of the noble and most selfless of the selfless? Be it napoleon or Mr. Jones in animal farm, the tsar or Stalin in the Russian revolution or simply the head of any institution, why is it that even the slightest power is received and often abused?

Shakespeare wrote, “To do a great right, do a little wrong”. In my opinion it is this logic that is the basis of corruption of power holders or leaders.  To say that all leaders are corrupt would be incorrect as even within animal we have the exception of snowball that was propagated against and ironically exiled for apparent corruption and scheming. Through various sociological experiments led by leading universities in the world such as Yale and Cambridge, it has been proven that leaders often turn corrupt when receiving perks of leadership, and when they learn they can take excess advantage of people without being questioned, they soon become corrupt. In animal farm we see how Napoleon soon turns corrupt though initially he was a part of and leading the revolution; however over time he seemed to be enjoying his power and authority so he started taking undue advantage of it. It was through the smaller things like only the pigs being allowed to eat the apples and drink the milk, he consolidated their apparent superiority. He was very particular about being the only one with power and his hunger for the same led him to extremes to ensure others did not receive any power. He did this by intimidating the rest of the animals with either his watch dogs or convinced them that they were wrong and he was right through the use of squealer. All those who opposed him were eventually silenced such as snowball and also the four little piglets. The same is to be said about Stalin and his regime. He fought side by side with Trotsky during the Russian revolution but soon, as napoleon did with snowball, he exiled Trotsky to foreign countries when he seemed to be too high a threat. Editor of his propaganda newspaper 'Pravda', Stalin used it shamelessly to distort the truth and promote himself, much as Napoleon used squealer where as napoleon's dogs represented Stalin's secret police. So between the two, Stalin was never really threatened or questioned and happily exploited the common man and took undue advantage of his position.

In my opinion, corrupt leaders are those who have an inbuilt sense of superiority and expect people to bribe or praise them because, according to them, they are more capable than others. This is commonly seen in the pages of history when monarchs who inherit their throne let the kingdom crumble economically or in war. They just expect things to work out and bask in the glory of their predecessor. Tsar Nicholas the second was one such leader. The moment his country faced hardship his authority crumbled. He did everything in his power to regain authority but failed drastically and spurred the Russian revolution. This description is strikingly similar to that of Mr. Jones who easily lost his farm to the animals. Despite his desperate attempt to regain control during the battle of the cowshed, he was rendered unsuccessful. His excessive exploitation of resources, Jones seems to be enjoying luxuries such as a comfortable bed and consumption of alcohol while his poor animals were eating bland grains and had no luxuries of their own. the animals representing the common man and working class of Russia who didn't receive any luxuries while the tsar and the elite of the nation slept every night in comfort without working or earning it.

The use of religion in the Russian revolution is seen when Stalin allowed the propagation of the Roman Catholic Church. though originally against the idea of religion being a contribution to the revolution, as it was a tool used by the tsar to keep the common man in check, Stalin allowed it back into the country when he needed to raise the moral of the public and faith of the  people in the work they are doing. The church enticed them with stories of heaven and created fear in the apparent repercussions of their actions if they do not follow the church. Moses the tame raven, also originally Mr. Jones’s special pet, used to tell the animals the wonders of sugar candy mountain and how if the animals work hard they will go to Sugarcandy Mountain after they die. Though he was unseen for a time after the revolution, the reign of napoleon brought his return to animal farm.

It does not stand true that all leaders are corrupted by power. This is because they choose to use their power for social welfare. With a target in mind other than self gratification and greed, great leaders of the world such as Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela have remained untainted and uncorrupted. Often these leaders are born out of necessity and suffering, having personally suffered losses and wanting change.  Trotsky was introduced to the concept of Marxism during his exile. Though he was originally against the concepts of Marxism he came out of exile a dedicated Marxist. Well educated and highly spirited, he went about the Russian revolution with great tact. He used his knowledge to suggest changes to improve the state of the common man, and propagated industrialization. It was against this that Stalin fought vehemently though after the exile of Trotsky he, hypocritically, fully supported it.

Snowball was also a similar character. Like Trotsky we see not a hint of corruption in his character. Through out the book he has been productive and motivational. A good orator, he came up with productive suggestions such as the building of the windmill but was sadly driven out despite his integrity and valour.

Though we have seen great and selfless leaders in the pages of history we have also witnessed few terrible, merciless and brutal, and scores of weak, corrupt and unmemorable leaders. So ignoring the few noticeable and remarkable exceptions to the rule, Does absolute power lead to absolute corruption? Absolutely. 

Black White and Blue

In a dream world I wouldn’t be me. Infact, I probably wouldn’t be a person. I’d be able to fly, to soar, in a midnight blue sky with small bright stars lighting my way.

No bother, no order to please

No rules to obey, nothing need say

I look up at the starry expanse; I feel no blood on my hands

I look to the right at the flying bird, my bright blue companion unsaid and unheard

On my left is an empty space, of someone yet to join the chase

Down below a civil glow, they have nothing to prove and nothing to show.

I fly on with the bird, not fast nor slow. It doesn’t leave. it shall not go.

The empty space besides me calls. The little height I had gained now falls.

I’m tempted to drop down to the glow. Plunge back into what I know.

Forget my height and simply dive. It’s closest to death when you feel most alive.

I need to search, I need to find, I need to leave my truth behind

I need to get back in the air. I need to love and forget all care.

It is simple, such a complex thing, I need to locate what the present won’t bring.

I need to be hypnotized, by those dark and fiery eyes.

Just to find another soul to match this night as black as coal.

So dark and deep and sinister one shies away, craving for dangerous play

The silent bird looks my way. its eyes convey what it cannot say.

His look will not make me cower. I know what I want in this hour.

I need right now that other soul, to guide blind me, through this rabbit hole.

I need his evil and his sin, I need his darkness, I need my kin.

I need the black to my white; I want him by my side tonight.

I want him to fly and lie with me, but he’s too far to touch and to far to see.

I loose my balance and my sight; to stay asleep and keep my flight

But without a yin, the yang will sink: nothing left to show but a broken link

Schizophrenia

The words arnt enough

The actions dont suffice

The message doesnt penetrate

Your armour cold as ice

The philosophy goes unheard

The theology wont stand

In desperate attempts to reach you

I sink ignored into the sand

No pressure or reasoning has effect

There is nothing that I can enforce

And you sit innocently in the corner

And there is not a line i didn't cross.

And you still sit there, vacant expression and all

Lost and afraid and persecuted by your invisible demon

In awkward silent stance like your rag doll

In pain and delusion without reason.

I fall.

You sit there in silence

I cry

You don't realize you're passive violence.

I try to explain but you don't believe me

But this is not my fault

I want the best for you but thats not what you see

I loose you by default.

Now a time has come where I'm more like you

I blame science and your mother and God.

Why would they do this to me too?

Give me you, but then turn out to be fraud.

When I meet you I keep emotions cold

When I meet you I match your mute

I'm stiff and ignore the conversation turning to mould

I sometimes wonder if you meant, all along to pollute.

But being like this is the only way to deal

You're disease has infected me through loosing my love

And even though we may never heal

I'll never regret turning into what i was always secretly afraid of.

Melting into madness with you made my life even when i was persecuted and cornered.

Because, for a short while, it meant that I knew you, and I am honored.

Shakespeare tragedies

I haven't really read much Shakespeare other than what we are made to read in school, such as the merchant of Venice or Julius Caesar and Othello. i have, of course, seen the movies but i don't feel like it ever captures the same essence. It is true that the tragedies that we speak of, like romeo and Juliet or Othello do make great romances because as someone said (and i cant remember who) that the most romantic emotion is sadness. it is because they are doomed that they become more beautiful as characters and stories. if romeo and Juliet eventually ended up together, they wouldn't be an eternal love story that every girl secretly cries to while reading (or in my case watching), but the main protagonists of Taylor Swift's "love song" (i don't think she realized that romeo and Juliet don't actually end up together). Similarly it is the tragic irony of Othello, who is tricked by Iago into killing his own wife, that makes the story stand out to me. they were perfectly happy with no hitches in their relationship when Iago brain-washes Othello to convince him that she was unfaithful. and tragically, as all men do, Othello acted on a bruised ego and jumped to conclusions. i guess the concept of "open and honest discussions" or "couples therapy" hadn't really arisen at that point. But of course being the "honorable" man that he was, the only thing left to do was kill Iago and then kill himself. its almost typical.

Shakespeare, though a brilliant writer, had a strange idea of romance. where the best ending leaves the audience in tears or a constant state of "WTF" in their heads. i have always been curious as to why someone would dream to be in a Shakespeare romance. why someone would look for their "romeo", i never understand. its not exactly a good thing is it? to love someone and never be able to actually be with them. then die before you actually have a life together. isn't it better to just have a quiet normal romance, where there are no family feuds or sword fights or premature death? that doesn't make it unromantic, it just makes it normal. but to the people involved, any romance will be a whirlwind! because every relationship has complications, fights and jealousy and adventure, it just doesn't need to end in death before say the age of 60 yrs old.

Fair Desdemona

Poem based on Desdemona, from Shakespeare's play, Othello.

Fair Desdemona,

Fell in love as the spied the moor

Fair Desdemona,

Heard his tales, reveled in his tells

And then she knew for sure

Fair Desdemona,

Was inexplicably devoted to her dark knight

Fair Desdemona,

After a shrouded courtship and much impending gossip,

Gave up her maiden name in the dead of night

Fair Desdemona,

In honor of her spouse, fiercely fought

Fair Desdemona,

Betrayed her father, as he cried harder

Deception was not what he had taught

Fair Desdemona,

Fragile against the general's sooty muscled chest

Fair Desdemona,

Faithful love she displayed, she never strayed

From othello's chamber of rest

Fair Desdemona,

Her love suddenly seemed unrequited

Fair Desdemona,

received a rude little bark and a twisted remark

The affection received was now limited

Fair Desdemona,

Unaware of the implications of what she said

Fair Desdemona,

Accused of cheating, she got a beating

Though she never left blind Othello's bed

Fair Desdemona,

Honest and pure to her very last breath

Deluded Othello,

Who thought Cassio lusted her, never trusted her

Ignorent that she loved him to death.

Green

More seductive than the seductress’s lips

Or the swaying movement of her hips

The reason she accompanies the sailor off his ship

The little green note between his fingertips

You can see the greed, transparent in his eyes

He gambles over and over for that unholy prize

Will he be the king of diamonds or the king of sighs?

For the little green note he sneaks and spies.

She spots him walking on the street

With a smile on his face and a jump in his feet

She drags him into the ally, later leaves him white as a sheet

Triumphant, with the little green note her night’s meal is concrete

And then some, they work all day and night

In their faith, their mantra they continuously recite

If we do good, we will be treated right

Yet the little green bill stays out of sight.

Green makes the world go round

Turning an churning without a sound

Some may have earned and some may have found

But none can take it 6 feet into the ground

So frivolous and crass are money matters

It turns even the sanest of the sane into hatters

Leaves so many good souls bruised and battered

The thin get thinner and the fat get fatter.

Green is the colour of the earth, of life and of being

But what is this we have been seeing?

A little green bill has everyone fleeing

To steal, to murder, to gamble a living?

Fearful state of mind

There is silence in fear.

Its frighteningly quiet as you strain to hear some sound of home

You are cold and unclear

Shivering in the dark, confused by the fog and blinded by the foam.

Stranger in these parts

There are no escapes explored or known

No longer a lion heart

There is no path or solution shown

You are alone.

How did you arrive

This was not intended or planned

How will you survive

No guide or map back will be laid in your hand

There are no clues

Just silence in and around you here

You had paid your dues

And what did you get in return? betrayal and fear

Don't shed a tear.

But what is left to do?

Where is the honk of a car or chirp of a bird

Where has your sense gone to?

Why cant you think and find what is to be seen and heard?

You are paralyzed

The only thing that you can perceive is empty, useless and black

You are compromised

You cant function or move or get back on track

There's no going back

It makes sense now

It was all unfair and undeserved, just an unfortunate loss

It is time you bow

And accept there is nothing in the past to counter or cross

You have everything to gain

They have everything to loose and you, a fresh start.

You can sense again

So observe their game and learn their deceptive art

Now play the part

Half morning

The moon lazily floats in the sky

Scattering light while still it dozes

But the dark melts away to the human eye

As light greets the trees and the roses

And the blissful moon, still in happy stupor

Confuses a little girl spying

And though it was not his intention to dupe her

He continued his daylight flying

She called to him “Mr. moon, Mr. moon!”

Should you still be up there?

The night is long gone and the sun is here soon

But you’re still glowing fair!”

The moon, sluggishly smiled under heavy lids

And responded in monotone

“Correct my child, its time I hid”

And sunk out of the sky with that drone

The cool of the morning followed to moon

The sunshine replaced its kin

Glorious gold caused the birds to swoon

As it was time for the day to begin

Rain

Rain.

Pouring down, battering down on me.

I welcome the assault again

It helps me break away from me.

It pelts hard, scrubbing my skin

and washing away all care

I advance out from within

As it soaks my clothes my skin my hair

A swing awaits me in the park

An appointment I’m careful not to miss

A boy awaits me in the dark

Who’s lips I’d like to kiss

The grass is greener the air is cleaner

My soul is fresher inside of me

The song is sweeter the mess is neater

And now I know I’m free.