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The haze of random buildings continued to wizz by, encircling the speeding train. He sat as if paralyzed in his chair. His face strained with concentration. As if hoping that this minute effort on his part would help him make sense of the whirling blur which confronted him.  Somehow believing that this act would allow him to break down the mass of chaos around him into individual entities; giving each one of them their meaning and their purpose for having been placed there to begin with.

He would catch a glimpse of a house, start making it out, begin discovering its parameters and then in a flash it was gone, plunged back into the tumultuous haze of the city and replaced by another. He wondered to himself whether it was solely a physical incapacity. The train was travelling rapidly and yet, with much determination he was able, every now and again to catch a glimpse of clarity.

Nevertheless this fleeting moment of clarity could only be brought about by an inequitable endeavor of the mind. Was it worth it? He wondered. Is it worth driving oneself onwards with the purpose of making sense of things unknown, seeking to make truth of conjecture, to find meaning in the whirlpool where which we live, to unravel the essence of the darkest pools wherein our thoughts run wild, only to discover that the clarity that we think to have discovered vanishes a short time thereafter, only to be replaced by another seemingly infallible vision of clarity.

He wondered how this train of thought would end, yet suddenly his eye fell on a single raindrop sliding down the window pain. The drop was slowly making its way through a maze of obstacles, pushed to on one side then to the other on its journey,yet it pressed ever onward, and he wondered.

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