Your head will reel at the secrets we keep. Behind the music of the mad cello player, there is a story with frosted windows and hidden doors - one of those boxes you can only open with a magic trick. And the itinerant drunk has swallowed the key.

Your tired arms can no longer carry the weight. It falls and, to your surprise, does not shatter into a million reflective shards. A thud and a bent floor is all that the universe witnesses of your final relief.