An Observation made within Sam Spratt's "IX. The Monument Game" - Familiar face, gentle touch, marriage. The Wander begins. Who are you? Who am I? There is no campfire. A decade underneath a jetblack cloud. Two orbs our only light. Inferno. Emergency exit for most-keep going-deeper and deeper. Born into opposite worlds, we enter a third-together. Here in this collapsed lung of a borough, we slog through The Muck-together. Complementary strengths and weaknesses our guide. We emerge. Surrounded by true friends. We whisper "to live, you must play." Our identity - each other.
