So there once was a man who lived down the lane. He woke up everyday with the exact routine same. He washed his hair and brushed his teeth but everyday still he wished for relief. From the petty life that held his soul hostage, the yearning to fly dreams stashed in his pocket. Held on vigor now never seen, in these new days of old where nothing is as it seems. But still the man moves on unsure of destination, Once more time and he steps without hesitation...One more time, the thoughts of a nation.