An array of words tailored to the delight of the emperors. People wave flowers and the unruly ones wave grenades. A barrage of cutting sentences steeped in deceit. In helplessness, the subjects sell their consciences for a pittance of a quasi sabstitute of grace. Unreconciled to their fate, they leap headlong. Symbols have abandoned their original faces. They are now buying on a cosmic scale. You won't know who is who. Or with whom they walk in the boundless gave. A series of gray silhouettes in black. A mourning of some kind. And on the sidelines mocking only the saints...for the masses as usually unholy.