It is so complex. It is so simple.
I could slaughter the whole thing, tear it apart brutally yet methodically, not leaving the slightest trace of flesh stuck to the bone. Blood everywhere.
I could be a private investigator, I could be The Prophet, the visionary that guesses impossible guesses and guesses right.
But then, I would be the saddest, most miserable person on Earth.
And still, knowing this, when the feeling that I am being laughed at flourishes again I cannot but immerse in an ocean of leads and thoughts and facts that eventually evaporates in a nanosecond at an horrendous temperature into a desert of Conclusions.
No one likes chewing sand.