Everything is happening as I predicted it would. And now, as back then, not the slightest knowledge that I was right is comforting me. Like watching a carefully built card castle tumble down softly, pushed by the lively breeze, there is a sadness in knowing all of this was in vain. The thrill has to be in this build-up game. Perhaps the former castle was made out of sand, washed away by time. Perhaps the next one will be made out of straw, combusted by easy fire. There is no certainty. There won't be any certainty, any more. Maybe I should... just let go.