I came into the world wearing blindfolds and ankle shackles. But I’m through complaining. The world is a complaint factory, where each mass produced drone spews forth their slanted gossip. I’m wearing blindfolds, striving for a glimpse of nature. The world is a stage for wall builders, who show off their many creative designs for blocking people out. Poor hot people looking for an ice cube while wealthy people think deeply about God in their air-conditioned homes. And the bitching and moaning never stops. "I don’t believe you," he said, as if we hadn’t just met. I’m telling the truth, though. You can tell by the contortions on the faces of my audience. You can tell by the loosened shackles for which I was bound. You can tell by the blindfold laying on the ground.