Some nights, I go to sleep thinking of the compromises I have made that day. Moments of weakness: of fear and of laziness. I burn in a kind of shame. Out of the ashes comes a resolute Man with his eye on a Future. In the morning the ashes have cooled. The rules and cares drilled into him strip him of his will, his guts. The bright lights and moving images distract his vision from the horizon.

I go to bed, just another man.

Each time the fire burns, the flames grow dimmer. Some nights, the Man does not come, but I merely stare at the embers, wondering if they'll survive another day.