The Whisky Bears A Grudge Against The

What Are We Doing Here, That Is The Question.

Don't Touch Me! Don't Question Me! Don't Speak To Me! Stay With Me!

Estragon: We Always Find Something, Eh Didi, To Give Us The Impression We Exist? Vladimir: Yes, Yes, We're Magicians.

In Reality We Are One And All From The Unthinkable First To The No Less Unthinkable Last Glued Together In A Vast Imbrication Of Flesh Without Breach Or Fissure

Try Again. Fail Again. Try Better.