Her Sister’s Funeral

On the day of her sister’s funeral, long after the service, Bailey sat in the rain while the workmen backfilled Emily’s grave. In deference to Bailey, the men said nothing. Only their shovels made whispering sounds as they moved the soil. Four dozen metal folding chairs had been set up to accommodate the mourners but they were now empty and slick and shiny with the rain. Bailey watched plumes of her frosty breath as she exhaled on the frigid February afternoon.

How could Emily have died, wondered Bailey for the hundreth time. She had been only seventeen, two years younger than Bailey, and an honors student in her high school, where she had been a senior. In just three months, Emily would have graduated and joined her sister at college. She had planned to study nursing, like Bailey.

But Bailey knew exactly how her sister had died. She had accepted a ride on the back of her mother’s boyfriend, Chris’s motorcycle. Emily was afraid of motorcycles and absolutely refused to ride them. Unlike Bailey, Emily was rather timid. And Chris, Bailey knew, was forever on Emily’s back to “open up” and “experience life” and all that nonsense. He was always trying to change the girls into something resembling their mother, she supposed. What was up with that?

Chris had seemed alright, a good companion to their mother and he hadn’t been a bad guy.  He had a sort of endearing goofiness. He was tall and had coarse red hair and a really ugly red beard and Clark Kent glasses. When he and Mom were going out, he’d say stuff like, “Don’t smoke crack” and “Don’t burn the house down.”

He had finally convinced her little sister to ride along with him and then, on icy streets, Chris was showing off on his bike, taking turns too fast, and the bike spilled over. Emily’s helmet wasn’t fastened properly–and that too was Chris’s fault–and it came off when she fell. She struck her head on the pavement. It was horrible.  At the funeral home they had had a closed casket.

Chris had barely a scratch, but Bailey’s precious sister and best friend, was killed instantly. Her mother was stricken, but she never blamed Chris, maintaining that it was a “call from God.”  What bullshit, thought Bailey bitterly. She knew who was responsible. Damn him. And Chris and her mom were set to get married after Emily left for school, and finally settle down, but for Bailey, things would never, ever be the same again.  

Bailey hated Chris and by extension her mother, his enabler, his apologist, his piece of ass! Bailey shook her head. She could never go back to that house. It was no longer her home.  Chris had practically taken over, insinuating himself into their lives over the past three years. He had already driven her brother Brandon from the home. Two years older than Bailey, he was living across town with his girlfriend. Bailey would catch her train for school tonight and never return. She was on a full scholarship and didn’t need anything from them. She wouldn’t even say good-bye, she vowed. The wind was stirring; Bailey felt cold and she huddled closer inside her jacket.

She dissolved in tears, her rage giving way to sorrow. She had thought she was cried out. Everyone cried, all the time. Except for Chris. She hadn’t seen him shed a single tear and worse, he had never taken responsibility for the accident; he’d never once even said he was sorry! For that she couldn’t, wouldn’t forgive him. Ever. And dismay gave way to anger once more. She looked up suddenly and there, pinioned against the darkening sky, like a statue, stood a man, tall, in a green Army jacket and with coarse red hair, a really ugly red beard: Chris.  

“Bailey?” he said softly. She turned away. He stood before her.  

“What do you want, Chris?” she spat bitterly.

“I came for you; your mom’s worried,” he replied.

“I don’t care,” she said harshly. “I hate you!” She bared her teeth.

“I know,” he said quietly. “So do I.”

She startled a little, looked up at him suspiciously.

“Ever since the accident,” he added, I’ve hated everything about myself.”

“Are you going to get your bike fixed?” she asked with a touch of cruelty.

He shook his head no. “No,” he replied, “even sad old dogs like me can learn new tricks. I just pray it’s not too late.”

“Don’t worry, Mom’s forgiven you already,” she said spitefully.

“She knows I’d never purposely do anything to hurt someone she loved. Someone I love.”

She glanced quickly up at him again. “You really do love her, don’t you, Chris?” she asked, almost desperately.  

“I love you all,” he answered. “And I loved Emily. And Bailey:  I. Am. So. Sorry!”

She peered closely at him.  There were tears swimming in his sky-blue eyes, which were easily his best feature. Bailey took a deep, shuddering breath, and said, “I believe you, Chris.”

With tears continuing to fall from his eyes, he held out his big hand. “Let’s go home, Bailey.”  They walked, hand in hand, from the cemetery just as the light rain transformed into large, beautiful flakes of snow.

Bailey and her mother Sue didn’t speak about Emily or Chris for the next week.  

Bailey finally had to know. “Mom, did you and Chris break up?”

“No,” said Sue, “but he said he needed some time.  It was hard for him to face me.”

“Do you want him back, Mom?”

“Bailey, you don’t know how much I depend on him.”

Bailey didn’t respond, but called Chris the next day.  Chris came over within the hour.

“Bailey told me you missed me, Sue,” Chris told his girlfriend.  “You have no idea how much I missed you.  I thought after what happened, you’d never want to see me again.”

“I need you more than ever, Chris, replied Sue.  “I just hope if all of us stick together we can get through this as a family.”

“Before this happened I wanted to marry you,” Chris said. “I still do, but I don’t know what Bailey thinks.  She may not want me around.”

“Chris, it’s enough for me to know that it’s what Mom wants,” Bailey told Chris when he put the question to her later.  “I think we’ll all be better together.”

Without another word, Sue called Brandon.  “What would you think of Chris as a stepfather?” she asked her son.

“Come on, mom, you know I always liked him.” 

Chris, listening on the extension, smiled with relief.

Chris and Sue got married by a justice of the peace the next day with just immediate family and Brandon’s girlfriend, who was flower girl.     

Quiet Devastation

Oppressive delusions

Begin to serenade the mind.

Backward glances– unfinished —

Blur as visions whirl with pleasure.

In a sky transfigured

Transparent and wavering

Memories of water evaporate–

Damp hands summon quiet remorse.

Alchemy mutates a life of meaning

Into splintered icons beneath the Earth.

Somewhere a telephone rings,

Whisperwood 

The forest closes like a book,
each tree a story I cannot read.
The path dissolves into moss,
soft and secretive underfoot,
while shadows stretch long fingers
to tangle my thoughts.  

The trees do not ask,
nor the rivers accuse;
they only carry me forward,
their silence a solace
as I learn to wander,
to trust the song of the unmarked trail. 

Unsettled

My reflection blinks one heartbeat late,

Caught in the death dream.

It lifts a hand-

Not mine-

Fingers dripping, spelling my name backwards

On the inside of my vision.

Leaning toward the glass that leans back hungrily,  

I try to step away; the mirror whispers:

You are the echo I invited

To keep from being alone.

Leaving the Modern World 

I am learning to sit in silence, 

To find the divine in the ordinary: 

The creak of a chair, 

tick of the clock, 

The rhythm of my own heartbeat.  

The modern world will not stop me;  

I will stop for myself.  

Carl Scharwath has appeared globally with 210+ publications selecting his writing or art. Carl has published five poetry books and four photography books. He was nominated with four The Best of the Net Awards (2022-25) and two different 2023 Pushcart Nominations for poetry and a short story.

actualizing the 'evening' answer
to The Riddle of the Sphinx


     *


what I heard was not what was being said


     *



he'd spit in his own Pepsi if you asked for a sip


     *


aisle seat for the sorrowful ballet


     *


not in the script, the gull that flew past the bay window


     *


my incessant blathering wore out 
her hammer, anvil and that other bone
I can never remember


     *


limping toward unknown archipelagos
with a notebook and two childhood prayers


     *


brown blood in the hambone
and the first-class relic


     *


words everywhere, the oceanic fears of the illiterate


     *


maybe Gutei just needed a minute to think


     *


he's where it widens and slows with Sarah Vaughan


     *


it's hard to be alone in the hereafter

A film project on film history legend Billy Wilder

Victoria Wilder, his daughter, was awarded the “Courage for Freedom Award”

I met Billy Wilder with Gloria Swanson in Hollywood on my birthday, January 24, 1974.

I told him that I had postponed my first meeting in Rome with Federico Fellini, scheduled for the same day.

Billy Wilder observed me carefully, as if his eyes were a camera: he wanted to understand my true essence, revealing an urgency, since, perhaps, he wanted to be the first great director to discover me, before my meeting with Fellini.

Wilder had filmed, only two years earlier, “Avanti!” with Jack Lemmon, his first film in Italy, in Ischia and Sorrento, and since I was Italian by birth, the conversation shifted to this film, but without Wilder giving up on his intention to decode my essence, with his increasingly “investigative” gaze.

Although very young, I had a fairly precise idea of ​​what elements of my personality interested Wilder and which later interested Fellini.

In this scenario, Gloria Swanson had limited herself to mentioning Marlene Dietrich, who had introduced us.

We were at Paramount Pictures, and can you imagine that nothing happened related to the famous scene in “Sunset Boulevard” in which everyone recognizes “Norma Desmond,” the “forgotten” silent film diva played by Swanson in Wilder’s film? 

Something quite similar to that scene happened, due to Swanson’s long absence from Paramount, including that of Wilder, whose last film with Paramount Pictures had been “Sabrina” with Bogart, Hepburn and Holden, ending a 12-year business relationship between him and the company.

Some people waved at Wilder and Swanson from a distance, and while Swanson reacted almost “without reacting,” Wilder responded to the greetings, without taking his eyes off me, to explore my slightest reaction. 

And I couldn’t help but utter this sentence: “I’ll tell Fellini about what’s happening here now, but after we’ve known each other for a while.” 

Wilder understood the “chess move” I had made and extended his hand towards mine, appreciating the ambiguous “subtlety” of my statement.

Swanson, expected this reaction from Wilder, observed everything with detachment and a certain irony.

A few days ago, Victoria Wilder, Wilder’s daughter, pointed out a very important detail about her father: she told me that her father always appreciated being recognized and greeted, even though this was inevitable due to his enormous fame.

In short, this aspect of fame never bothered him.

The scene in the Paramount Studio from his film “Sunset Boulevard” was always within him, and Wilder deliberately made that scene immortal, since, I understood, it embodied himself and the essence of cinema. 

During the truly incessant greetings from the Paramount staff, being Italian, I was offered a “cappuccino,” and Wilder, in response to what I had said earlier, told me: “Federico, Fellini will immediately adore you if you ask him for a ‘cappuccino ‘ because you’ve created a scene that, if I had seen it, I would have included in ‘Sunset Boulevard’ . Yes, from how you picked up the cup, to when you brought it to your mouth to sip the ‘cappuccino’.”

Obviously, we all laughed.

Beneath that sentence, there was something much broader, which I will include in the film about him. Yes, I am proposing to make a film about Wilder, since I am building a mosaic with the pieces of memories I have of him, added to what Victoria Wilder told me about her father a few days ago, on my birthday. 

Victoria Wilder , introduced to me by Lady Silvia Gardin , was delighted to receive the “Courage for Freedom” award from my hands, created by Francesco Garibaldi, a descendant of the hero Garibaldi, which commends Mrs. Victoria, a great collage artist, for having had the tenacity and perseverance to collect rare and precious testimonies about her father, the only one who had the courage to reveal the true identity of the Olympus of fame: Hollywood.

But there is very important news that has just recently emerged: after the death of actor Gianfranco Barra, part of the cast of Wilder’s film “Avanti,” the only Wilder film shot in Italy, the entire film archive was given by Barra’s heirs to Graziano Marraffa, president of the Italian historical film archive.

This archive contributes to the rediscovery of the celebrated director and gives more urgency to my initiative to make a film about him, which, by depicting Hollywood, clearly illustrates the dangers faced by anyone who falls victim to the most popular obsession of our times: fame.

Engagement and Disillusionment 

Engaged here means the engagement of the mind with the mind. In order to keep the engagement of the mind with the mind intact, it is important to be happy with your mind. Despondency is despair, grief, heartbreak.          

In the case of engagement, if the mind’s desire is fulfilled, if the mind does not get hurt, sorrow, or suffering, the mind is right. The attention is the same remains A close connection of mind with mind keeps the focus fixed. Enthusiasm increases in the mind, it remains cheerful. Therefore, there is no need to grieve, nor to suffer. You have to keep going, seeing that the cut does not open in the mind and feet. No one can be given a place to occupy the mind. You have to move forward in connection with your own existence. Therefore, the power of the mind is very important.  Flowers should be kept in care. The juice will be in the mind, let the mind move like that. Mind connection provides the juice to move forward in life.

Understanding of mind and spirit with mind. Persistence, hope, desire, self-strength, mental strength move the mind forward. From connected thoughts, one has to increase concentration and move forward in life. Sparkling, shining light keeps life in full flow. All is the result of mind freshness. Intelligence and mental connection with the mind, kinship of one’s own soul with one’s own soul can keep oneself in order, must reach the right goal.              

Despondency means to be broken, hopeless. The mind is burdened with pain – it increases the sickness of the mind. The mind breaks down, becomes useless. The distance between the mind and the mind increases. The connection between the mind is lost. There will be both engagement of the mind and disorientation in life. But if you give importance or keep alive the depression Mind will be hurt, mind power and self-power will be lost. Which is very bad for everyone. Even if you are depressed, you should do what you need to do. You should see your dreams.          

Symptoms of depression or anxiety:

1. First understand yourself – I have suffered, I am suffering. 2. Loss of enthusiasm for work or creative work. 3. No way forward. Signs of getting out of depression: 1. To identify the pain of the mind, find out the cause. 2. To find a way to shake off or erase the pain of the mind. 3. Staying away from those people who have caused grief. 4.Walk and talk in such a way that no one gets hurt. 5. Talking and discussing the matter with a close person if necessary. 6. Dancing-reciting-pictures-art- listening to music, creative work including yoga and joining social service work.

7. Persistence, strength, patience and courage to make new plans and move forward, to overcome adversity. 8. Mental preparation is always necessary. I will be fine. I will be strong in any situation, my actions I will take it forward. 9. I will not let injustice happen to me. I have to protest for injustice. Sometimes I have to fight silently. 10. Even if you are disappointed, you have to give yourself hope. Must go to work. 11. Stay away from negative thoughts and activities. 12. It is one’s duty and duty to mend one’s broken heart. 13. Have confidence and trust in yourself.              

Both good and bad are in our hands there is self-view, self-action, consideration, self-perception, Dreaming, thinking, choosing direction, staying positive is all is in good standing.   

Amb. Dr. Priyanka Neogi is from Coochbehar. She is an administrative controller of United Nations’ PAF, a librarian, a CEO of Lio Messi International Property & Land Consultancy, international literacy worker, sports & peace promoter, dancer, singer, reciter, live telecaster, writer, editor, researcher, literary journalist, host, beauty queen, international co-ordinator of the Vijay Mission of Community Welfare Foundation of India.

Who Is Actually Responsible for Global Warming?

Today, global warming is one of the most serious environmental problems facing humanity. In recent years, the increase in Earth’s temperature, the rapid melting of glaciers, and the rise in natural disasters show how serious this problem has become. Many people are interested in what is causing global warming.

The main cause is human activity. Gases released from factories, power plants, and cars pollute the atmosphere. These gases are called greenhouse gases, and they trap heat from the Sun in the Earth’s atmosphere. As a result, the temperature of our planet continues to rise year by year.

Another important factor contributing to global warming is deforestation. Trees absorb carbon dioxide and help clean the air. However, as forests are cut down, the amount of harmful gases increases and the natural balance of the environment is disturbed.

In addition, the increase in waste, excessive use of plastic, and wasting energy also have a negative impact on the environment. People often do not think enough about the consequences of their actions.

In conclusion, the main cause of global warming is humans themselves. However, reducing this problem is also in human hands. If we protect nature, plant more trees, and use energy wisely, we can help prevent global warming. Every small action by each person can lead to big changes.

Yo’ldoshaliyeva Zinnura was born on June 17, 2011, in Rishton district of Fergana region. She is an 8th-grade student at the Fergana branch of the Specialized School named after Muhammad al-Khwarizmi and also serves as the leader of the “Talented” direction in the Rishton District Council of Leaders.

She has actively participated in various educational and intellectual projects, including “Anim Camp,” “Future Founders Online Forum,” “Young Reader” and the regional stage of STEM subjects. Her scientific article was published in the book “Feelings on Paper,” and another article of hers appeared in the “Synchronized Chaos” journal. In addition, she has taken part in many other projects and initiatives, demonstrating strong academic interest and leadership skills.

First of all, published poet and contributor Tao Yucheng is still hosting a poetry contest, open to all readers of Synchronized Chaos Magazine.

Synchronized Chaos Poetry Contest: We seek short, powerful, imaginative, and strange poetry. While we welcome all forms of free verse and subject matter, we prefer concise work that makes an impact.

Guidelines: Submit up to five poems per person to taoyucheng921129@proton.me. Each poem should not exceed one page (ideally half a page or less). All styles and themes welcome. Deadline for submissions will be in early March.

Prizes: First Place: $50 Second Place: $10, payable via online transfer. One Honorable Mention. Selected finalists will be published in Synchronized Chaos Magazine.

Also, past contributor Alexander Kabishev is seeking international poems of four lines each on the theme of friendship for a global anthology. The anthology, Hyperpoem, will be published by Ukiyoto Press and a presentation of the poem will take place in Dubai in August 2026.

Kabishev says the new vision of the project goes beyond commercial frameworks, aiming to become an international cultural and humanitarian movement, with the ambitious goal of reaching one million participants and a symbolic planned duration of one thousand years.

The focus is on promoting international friendship, respect for the identity of all peoples on Earth, and building bridges of understanding between cultures through poetry and its readers.

Please send poems to Alexander at aleksandar.kabishev@yandex.ru

This month’s issue asks the question, “Who Will We Become?” Submissions address introspection, spiritual searching, and moral and relational development and decision-making.

This issue was co-edited by Yucheng Tao.

Sajid Hussain’s metaphysical, ethereal poetry, rich with classical allusions, reminds us of the steady passage of time.

Jamal Garougar’s New Year reflection emphasizes ritual, spirituality, and the practices of patience and peace. Taylor Dibbert expresses his brief but cogent hope for 2026.

Dr. Jernail S. Anand’s spare poetry illustrates the dissolution of human identity. Bill Tope’s short story reflects on memory and grief through the protagonist’s recollection of his late school classmate. Turkan Ergor considers the depth of emotions that can lie within a person’s interior. Sayani Mukherjee’s poem on dreams lives in the space between waking thought and imaginative vision. Stephen Jarrell Williams offers up a series of childhood and adult dreamlike and poetic memories. Alan Catlin’s poem sequence renders dreams into procedural logic: how fear, guilt, memory, and culture behave when narrative supervision collapses. Priyanka Neogi explores silence itself as a creator and witness in her poetry. Duane Vorhees’ rigorous poetic work interrogates structure: individuality, myth, divinity, agency, culture. Tim Bryant analyzes the creative process and development of craft in Virginia Aronson’s poetic book of writerly biographies, Collateral Damage.

Nurbek Norchayev’s spiritual poetry, translated from English to Uzbek by Nodira Ibrahimova, expresses humility and gratitude to God. Timothee Bordenave’s intimate devotional poetry shares his connection to home and to his work and his feelings of gratitude.

Through corrosive imagery and fractured music, Sungrue Han’s poem rejects sacred authority and reclaims the body as a site of sound, resistance, and memory. Shawn Schooley’s poem operates through liturgical residue: what remains after belief has been rehearsed, delayed, or partially evacuated. Slobodan Durovic’s poem is a high-lyric, baroque lament, drawing from South Slavic oral-poetic density, Biblical rhetoric, and mythic self-abasement.

Melita Mely Ratkovic evokes a mystical union between people, the earth, and the cosmos. Jacques Fleury’s work is rich in sensory detail and conveys a profound yearning for freedom and renewal. The author’s use of imagery—“fall leaf,” “morning dew,” “unfurl my wings”—evokes a vivid sense of life’s beauty and the desire to fully experience it. James Tian speaks to care without possession, love through distance and observation. Mesfakus Salahin’s poem evokes a one-sided love that is somewhat tragic, yet as eternal as the formation of the universe, as Mahbub Alam describes a love struggling to exist in a complicated and wounded world. Kristy Ann Raines sings of a long-term, steady, and gallant love.

Lan Xin evokes and links a personal love with collective care for all of humanity. Ri Hossain expresses his hope for a gentler world by imagining changed fairy tales. Critic Kujtim Hajdari points out the gentle, humane sensibility of Eva Petropoulou Lianou’s poetry. Brian Barbeito’s lyric, understated travel essay passes through a variety of places and memories. Anna Keiko’s short poem shares her wish for a simple life close to nature. Christina Chin revels in nature through sensual, textured haikus.

Doniyorov Shakhzod describes the need for healthy and humane raising of livestock animals. g emil reutter hits us on the nose with cold weather and frigid social attitudes towards the suffering of the poor and working classes. Patricia Doyne lampoons authoritarian tendencies in the American government. Eva Petropoulou Lianou reminds us that we cannot truly enjoy freedom without a moral, peaceful, and just society. Sarvinoz Giyosova brings these types of choices down to a personal level through an allegory about different parts of one person’s psychology.

Dr. Jernail S. Anand critiques societal mores that have shifted to permit hypocrisy and the pursuit of appearances and wealth at all costs. Inomova Kamola Rasuljon qizi highlights the social and medical effects and implications of influenza and its prevention. Sandip Saha’s work provides a mixture of direct critique of policies that exploit people and the environment and more personal narratives of life experiences and kindness. Gustavo Gac-Artigas pays tribute to Renee Nicole Good, recently murdered by law enforcement officers in the USA.

Dr. Ahmed Al-Qaysi expresses his deep and poetic love for a small child. Abduqahhorova Gulhayo shares her tender love for her dedicated and caring father. Qurolboyeva Shoxista Olimboy qizi highlights the connection between strong families and a strong public and national Uzbek culture. Ismoilova Jasmina Shavkatjon qizi’s essay offers a clear, balanced meditation on women in Uzbekistan and elsewhere as both moral architects and active agents of social progress, grounding its argument in universal human values rather than abstraction.

Dilafruz Muhammadjonova and Hilola Khudoyberdiyeva outline the contributions of Bekhbudiy and other Uzbek Jadids, historical leaders who advocated for greater democracy and education. Soibjonova Mohinsa melds the poetic and the academic voices with her essay about the role of love of homeland in Uzbek cultural consciousness. Dildora Xojyazova outlines and showcases historical and tourist sites in Uzbekistan. Zinnura Yuldoshaliyeva explicates the value of studying and understanding history. Rakhmanaliyeva Marjona Bakhodirjon qizi’s essay suggests interactive and playful approaches to primary school education. Uzbek student Ostanaqulov Xojiakba outlines his academic and professional accomplishments.

Aziza Joʻrayeva’s essay discusses the strengths and recent improvements in Uzbekistan’s educational system. Saminjon Khakimov reminds us of the importance of curiosity and continued learning. Uzoqova Gulzoda discusses the importance of literature and continuing education to aspiring professionals. Toychiyeva Madinaxon Sherquzi qizi highlights the value of independent, student-directed educational methods in motivating people to learn. Erkinova Shahrizoda Lazizovna discusses the diverse and complex impacts of social media on young adults.

Alex S. Johnson highlights the creative energy and independence of musician Tairrie B. Murphy. Greg Wallace’s surrealist poetry assembles itself as a bricolage of crafts and objects. Noah Berlatsky’s piece operates almost entirely through phonetic abrasion and semantic sabotage, resisting formal logic and evoking weedy growth. Fiza Amir’s short story highlights the level of history and love a creative artist can have for their materials. Mark Blickley sends up the trailer to his drama Paleo: The Fat-Free Musical. Mark Young’s work is a triptych of linguistic play, consumer absurdity, and newsfeed dread, unified by an intelligence that distrusts nostalgia, coherence, and scale. J.J. Campbell’s poetry’s power comes from the refusal to dress things up, from humor as insulation against pain. On the other end of the emotional spectrum, Taghrid Bou Merhi’s essay offers a lucid, philosophically grounded meditation on laughter as both a humane force and a disruptive instrument, tracing its power to critique, heal, and reform across cultures and histories. Mutaliyeva Umriniso’s story highlights how both anguish and laughter can exist within the same person.

Paul Tristram traces various moods of a creative artist, from elation to irritation, reminding us to follow our own paths. Esonova Malika Zohid qizi’s piece compares e-sports with physical athletics in unadorned writing where convictions emerge with steady confidence. Dr. Perwaiz Shaharyar’s poetry presents simple, defiant lyrics that affirm poetry as an indestructible form of being, embracing joy, exclusion, and madness without apology.

Ozodbek Yarashov urges readers to take action to change and improve their lives. Aziza Xazamova writes to encourage those facing transitions in life. Fazilat Khudoyberdiyeva’s poem asserts that even an ordinary girl can write thoughtful and worthy words.

Botirxonov Faxriyor highlights the value of hard work, even above talent. Taro Hokkyo portrays a woman finding her career and purpose in life.

We hope that this issue assists you, dear readers, in your quest for meaning and purpose.