I wonder what it is that makes me like you, if anything. I look up to
you; I admire you. Like Judas did to JC. But, people call you JB. So show
me your stigmata. It’s real if I can peer through it like a pinhole.
And if I peer through that pinhole, what will I find? If I end up like
you, I may never have the courage to look. When I was a child, I asked
you once, “Dad, what if this is all just a TV show, and we’re
just characters in a story for someone else, unknown?” And now I
think to myself, if god had any screenwriting abilities, he’d have
made the central conflict more definite. And if we are just characters
in a story, would life be a box office flop?