A martial force for experimentation, propels it's will upon the mundane...
None can counter this advance, nor should wish to. For in it's wake tread the garrisons of much desired growth. Too long has success in the wrong places governed, unchallenged. Nascent ideas now emerging need room to flourish within the dictatorship of relative prosperity.
Moreover, walks through degradation rekindle the knowledge that there are those more bereft of hope than I. Caught in a desperate spiral from which escape is nigh on impossible.
In truth even my most ardent doubters appear eerily silent. Seemingly gone are the days when incredulity reigned supreme. Every inch fought for, with tooth and nail; now no more the case.
It is within this perversely inverted scene I find myself anticipating the next chapter. Knowing with certainty my aesthetic zenith still to be distant. This being a sign of hope. Many roads to explore, and self evidently more wonderful errors to make.