We may well be lost. Broken. It may all be pointless. Doomed. This road we stumble down might lead to nowhere. Oblivion. Yet should you choose to walk this way with me … then, my angel, all beauty shall flower for you and I and we shall take our remaining steps as though carried by the slow moving and merciful wave that delivers all travellers to the glory of surrender. For if you will take my hand … everything. Just everything.