A. On the bust of the Pallas
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The room was dark musty and the general aura of the room felt tragic. There was nobody in there. Just a man. One man, Muttering to himself nonsense. He seemed lost, just sitting there. There were strange assortments of unpleasant dolls and toys along with broken ritualistic things piled in a dirty old garbage can in the corner of the room. It was hard to see it. Yet so noticable. The mans eyes were sunken in and his mutterings told me he was in a dark place he couldn't get his mind out of. He looked up at me and his seemed to be begging me never to end up like him and to help him. I looked in the uncomfortable room once and decided I would ignore him. I probably should have helped the old man, but I didn't. I guess I was being ignorant...
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