How darth vader became us, and we sat in his shoes and wondered about the stars in the galaxy. If ever there was a man built for his times, it was I and he was him. And in this, the man that considered himself genius was actually forlone to be something greater than his actual self. As a shell of a man, atleast he had himself to survive with, however with everyone else around he considered his death a final surrended of time. A final giving up of the death blow that occurs in the evening nights, when gin soaked men dip their feet in ice water. A final restitute for the hungry. A final hell-hole for the burly whites.
What is genius? Is it a continuation of the sublime or the hurried nature of a dime. Is it the destiny of the mind, or the detailed network of distant relatives connecting into one another and forming units instead of networks. A hub for spaceships and monolithic railways. A loser in all its might, and a relativie in all its fight. A relative to one, is ofcourse the other.
Here in lies the greatness of humanity