[This man is full of dry, humorless laughter tonight. He lolls his head back as he chuckles, staring up at the ceiling. Or... Perhaps through it, would be the better word.]

No. It's because of what I am doing. [A deep, weary sigh escapes him.] I have thrown away everything in my search. My home, my love, my best years. And I have made no progress.

There are times when it feels like a fruitless effort. And on those nights, the thought persists.