We think, somehow, as we get older... We become wiser. One would like to believe that one gets better at seldlf defence. Alas, no such luck really. It almost feels like the intensity of pain... The depths of the valley. The jab of the knife and the stings of the poison only seem to deepen. The crimson turned to red, then maroon.. And muddy brown till finally it charred the muscle.

One then looks and wonders, "how, but?".