Five minutes are enough to dream up an entire life, enough to start off on promising garden paths. One signs up willingly to be slaughtered at the altar of expectation. Tenderness, conversation, garlic baguettes, Euler equations, hope...Above all, hope. The frightening spectre of hope.Is it easier to take because I am privy to the whispers of a cold, silent night ? Do I not tremble in fear simply because I am just too wired to pay heed ?