Sometimes you stand there. Simply. Your head bowed down. Your eyes closed. Everything and nothing on your mind. Everything in general. Nothing in particular. You do not look around. You don't utter a sound. You bow your head in silence. Your eyes closed. Somewhat like a chicken in the butcher's box. You can hear the conspiracy of blade and air. You can smell droplets of warm fresh blood. You can feel the steel reflecting you. And you stand there still. Simply. Your head bowed down. Your eyes closed. It takes a while to attain this. Captive-chicken-syndrome. When you just don't care. Anymore. If the sun rises tomorrow, and your head is still intact, you will stand there again. Silently. Your head bowed down. Your eyes closed.