The problem is that this has not turned into a myth, yet. The idea of movement danced and seized upon me, but this figure of liberation is pure figment, an innocent fantasy. I’m in stasis: a transitional space that seems tunnel-like without lights. Perhaps the problem is that I’m waiting for a magical solution after having demystified the situation. Maybe the problem is I’m relying on fictional advice to manifest itself as real. Surely, the problem is that reality is always painstakingly muddled.