A compulsion to discern the purpose of the need to articulate. Why do anything? Why do anything at all? A question of choice involves peeling layers of paint once the paint itself has begun to dry. Work is hard, work is difficult; one waits constantly, waiting for life to begin, the day to end, and the beginning to end. How much can one man do? How can one say and still not say enough? A slurry of words mixed with a desire to move — the result is an exalted attempt to improve. A humble servant beckons his kinfolk, standing at the altar much like a pastor. His hands are raised and he begs, silently in hope that they will obey and see between the lines. Yet he is unknown most to himself, his means are necessary, but his purpose is unclear.