Psykhed

i think, therefore i am are people not people? they seem to me as art; some shoddily crafted, gone to the wayside, some with pygmalian skill. ars adeo latet arte sua. others, juvenile scribbles, unwelcome relics of communal callowness. i wish to see an art, ulysses, so witty, elusive, allusive, beautifully crafted, once in a lifetime, a lizzy bennet in our brave new world.