No one understands your words.

Neither the amity beside you, nor the hatred before your eyes, nor even yourself.

Even if you cling to context and authority, adorned borrowed words will never reach the heart.

Still, when understanding is sought, dialogue relies on shared knowledge.

Self-evident references and citations, implicit understandings and allusions.

No unknown words exist there, and in that tranquility, you dream of mutual understanding.

The Illusionist of Recursive Fantasy.

In facing mirrors, an ideal image; what reflects are infinite trials.

At the end of aeons, theoretical world peace will be achieved.

Someday, without fail.