Don't pore over my work if you believe that life is a plain and strength freeway. For it is not. We are all born travelers, damned to go on without knowing the destination. The course of the tiring miles of never-ending roads is full of sudden U-turnsand dangerous twists. The country dotted with rich meadows and verdurous fields along with the quiet, still and harmonious appearing ducolic life casts a spell on us. But rarely do we slow down. Sometimes we despise our compulsive mobility. But do we ever stop? And where do we eventually reach? We keep circling over a self-made mirage like a kite which rounds atop the carrion. Our chase down the will-o-the wispy Lane often makes us change our stripes. Having lost the angelic pursuits, the journey from a lesser human to a cannibalistic demon becomes the most traversed pathway.