Uncle Adelbart: Church bells ring like birds sing, like flowers grow, like streams flow, like children play, like trees shield, like waves roll, like lovers fold, like snow falls, like faith holds. Yet it’s ennui, it’s decadence, it’s surrogates all around. Seekers became solitary again, wandering in a barren desert, preaching to the occasional deaf. Our screams are silent, our dreams sordid, our hopes vain, our toys lame, our joys vapid, our music noise, our time gone.

Master Thaur: I’m not into this society thing, anyways.

The Gnostic Wanderer: Anchors drop real deep and hold real fast. Just don’t cut your chain. That’s how you weather the storm.

Tonó: Found some old cassettes and been listening ever since, feels so good, not because they’re old, but because they’re true. The lyrics are pure poetry, can’t believe we had it so good. Utter privilege! Loving them all. And books! Been reading some novels, just by picking a book at random from the shelf, oh my god, I didn’t even know this author for decades and I’ve been passing his books thousands of times, living, eating, breathing, next to them, and they’re just the best, what a bliss! But then the next novel was missing and I tried to order it and then I realised it’s all paperbacks now, if at all! Boy band nobodies getting published on beautiful paper with fine print in hard cover, and the best literature we have gets printed on yellow toilet paper? Shame, shame, shame. But hey, I’m back to hunting second hand books, that’s so much fun! It’s a self-enclosed world, needing nothing else, I can get lost in there and not get out and not miss a thing. It’s like being in a church.