The real sadness of existence is that each man must face the task of crushing all humanity into a neatly crafted, pop can carbonated, ivory painted four by four box of a worldview, while the truth in knowledge lay but a short walk away from this box, hidden somewhere in the tall-grass.
Some are said to never look up from their task; perhaps they take primal pleasure in it, or are too enchanted to lift their eyes. Some are said to have caught a mere glimpse of truth, seen, and ignored it; continuing to pulverize limb and flesh until their task is sufficiently complete, and their life is through.
And then there are those who take the walk.
Who are you?