Like marching in several different funeral processions at once. Which one is playing the music? Are they all headed to the same grounds?
I was back to driving around Nevada, earning money for who knows what end, and re-met the most frightening quatrain in the American songbook:
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves began to die?
That means he’s lost the will to live
I’m so lonesome I could cry
If this were a Henry James novel, I would be telling people that I am morally tired. But no matter how far you stretch the pathetic fallacy, caged animals don’t stop eating for moral reasons.