The Good Samaritan slowly walks by. He is wearing his odd, untied, boots, and his scarf lingers around his neck all the way up till his nose, on top of which he caries his dark aviator sunglasses. With both hands deep down in his pockets he mutters small talk at the curb, it might seem absurd, but he is not by it disturbed. Clowns and businessmen all clap their hands—yes, the circus is in town—and Cinderella is in the midst of the show. Her egalitarian views are so neatly decorated with thought and introspection—“I am you and you are me she screams.” But things are not what they seem, as the water boils and turns into steam.

Demonstrators march in circles blowing their penny whistle. The brave cross the road even though the light is red. Mr. Search has a million songs to choose from, but still non-fit his ear. Aggravation turns into contemplation as Mr. Search writes the book he could not find on his shelf. It is a sequence of thoughts. Different people, different intensions, different aspirations, all inside the same body. Some of the characters smoke with a self-destructive intent, many drink, while others are strong and see good where there is evil. Along the lines Mr. Search tries to find himself, whatever that might be—he stopped referring to himself in singular form a long time ago, he instead goes by “his selves” now as he finds that that brings less contradiction to his actions.

Shortly, ink becomes Mr. Search’s blood, and the paper takes on three dimensions—it is his world. A tear pushes its way out of his eye as he embarks the ship of the past. Slowly it makes its way through troubled waters, he recounts all the evenings he would walk for hours looking up at the lustrous night sky. It is truthful to point out that Mr. Search had an affair with the world, he was in awe of it, of the shoemakers creation. He remembers how he finally traded the books of Hawking and Feynman for King Jr. Every night, before he went to bed, he would listen to “I have a dream” and “I’ve been to the mountain top”. Mr. Search remembers crying because he believed the words, the words that echoed that there is good in the world, even if it is suppressed.