Looking at your own life from a distance through a telescope, would the view be satisfying? Or is there a piece missing from the puzzle? "I"?
Does man still have time and willingness to ask himself who I really am?
Is the next bus stop called humanity more like a happy land without disease, poverty, ugly vegetables, imperfect bodies and unfavorable BMI?
Or will it be a cabinet of distorting mirrors in an amusement park, located in a labyrinth with no entrance or exit, and the show has no beginning or end?