You’re not so good at hiding it any more. You’re barely keeping it together, and they are on to you. It won’t be long before they drag it out of you, your defining moment, the fulcrum on which your life revolves. You last hope of solace is hinged on the empty hope that it really wasn’t so bad. It stings when you remember the time an ally laid fallen begging for mercy and you looked the other way. What does the audience look like for that event? From what I can see from here, through the lights, in the shadowy balcony, it looks like Selfishness, seated next to, possibly, no it’s beyond me.