Desire makes us forget. It makes us instinctively disregard any and everything that comes in the way of our self-deluded vision of the world. Like intoxicated spiders, we unknowingly start spinning our own invisible threads of speculation, foolishly trying to link together randomly meaningless details and events into an equally incongruous web of fantasies. Rarely do we ever realize - before it's too late, that is - that the webs we were so passionately making, were slowly becoming our own objects of torture; binding us in a cocoon of stupidity and childish hopes.