Does anyone remember those early formative years, where we yearn for almost anything that bears or conjures any fascination. It seems so long away, but I remembered in spite of my petulant insistence, I did not get what I want all the time. But why did we want those little animate objects - those toys and figurines, what could it possible give us? What joy? What elation? A certain possession? That is what we ask, now that we have grown. For we have grown out of those toys, those figurines, but have we grown out of ourselves - our wants, our desires?

Or has it just metamorphosized into something that is now beyond the scope of conscience, of control, of curtailment?

Like a child who plots to portray a semblance of good behavior, he wants the toy, and for the toy he behaves. Now that he has grown, he plots as well, he get what she desires, he gets what he wants irregardless of what it takes. For it is the toy he wants.