There is a certain pride to be had in the claiming of constant pain.
"Never have I not felt it," as the cameras watch in the still darkness.
The sorrow the viewer feels is intevetable. The desire to care, the desire to comfort.
Silence passes between two entities.
The block of quiet is filled with pondering.
An eternal throb of ghosts weaves its way through the railing of the staircase, and the cameras just watch because they don't know what else there is to say.