Memories can be sadistic things. Exactly where your memory stretches to can be either a form of torturous mockery, or a grand enlightenment. For us, it was a bond. We didn't know exactly where or when we were, but we knew that we were there, and we were together. Yet, even together, we were faced with a big, overwhelming question. We could look at our hands, extend our fingers, and feel a bit more human. But it got tiring to keep our fingers stretched out that way, and we felt vulnerable. We turned over our hands, and they were beaten and burned. Our veins bulged. We looked up at eachother with wonder, and with hatred. With love, and with agony.

Were we ever crazy?