Hello. I am focused on your hand. The shake says everything I can know about what is going to be come of our in-between selves. Shall we begin to end our touch? It is time to make conversation out of interest and of interest, a new and interesting form. Fill it out, we will. And accordingly, our songs will breathe frost onto the listening ears and articulate our moment of meeting's forever. Ah, yes, the infinite argument for art's sake. Yes, that is how the stars got to be something paid for in attention. Can we be such as well? Shall we go by Lincoln's law? Esteem from the fellow fellows? It seems like a permanent ellipse, unless one slingshots out of orbit. To be elect, to be selected, to be and not to see. That is the blindness bind of popularity's grind: it's made into coffee too many times to taste.