|picture from here|
O Muse, your words are music to my content,
The fortress crumbles, my soul's bent
To unravel the rust of this wretched body,
Devoid of existence, the temple of malady
For I hide beneath the mask of Apollo
And flaunt gaiety with face unbarred
The tears not seen under the veil,
For my pain is just a dust on the scale.
If we ask someone living on the edge of starvation, the answer is food.
If we ask someone dying of cold, the answer is warmth.
If we put the same question to someone who feels lonely and isolated, the answer will be probably be the company of other people.
But when the basic needs have been satisfied - will there still be something that everybody needs?
*quote from v for vendetta