Soon in life you will come upon a certain line of prose that looks similar to this: "During the moments after his death, I became to a sense of myself as a rubbery tumbleweed trapped forever in a pocket of warm, dead air squeezed between a hulking rock and a skirt of nothing." Whence that occurs, try not to fall to hard For the girl sitting to the right of the lampost You just passed in your new Blue Chevy Tahoe Sunroof sold separately