"I’m sitting in my living room. The walls are holding up the ceiling and the air is warm. Nothing seems to be missing. The steady floor is under me and the windows allow me to look outside. Then why do I feel this beaten down? Why is my mind not cooperating with itself? Maybe the house is like this too, maybe the walls are hollow and the floor is covering a mass of cadavers. Perhaps the windows allow only a biased perception of the world outside, trying to hide a reality of horrors from my gaze."