Cardinal hair in the wind whips across my face, fulfilling and wounding in equal measure. With prior knowledge I know the twin sisters of affection coursing through my veins carry the sickening inevitability of repetition. Impotent to fight it. Too soon to be in that same place with the same daemons screaming in my ears. A rhapsodic song of victory. Sung as a haunting melody that fluctuates and fights against the prosaic rise and fall of the servo engines that create it. All that remains is the ash falling silent in the wind between my fingers.