What’s the point of such a fearless night? The moonlit waves crashing on the shore, and yet nothing ... nothing .... abysmal dry docks on the horizon. And yet nothing more and nothing less. In a quiet time. A quintessential truth for a Quintessential man. That Life is Strange, with its twists and turns and gaps in the road. Days filled with love and terror. Electrifying emotions. Fearfully dreadful and vast in number. It pains the very bottom of the soul. Where dreams and fog dance across the memory. Where the effigy of true existence is burned away by the burdens of mortality. Look, come and see! What stupendous sights and sounds await the woeful observer. On the edge, a cliff. And over the cliff? A free fall .... A jump in the canyon, a wingless flight to the cold hard depths, where neither time passes nor rewinds. The edge between life itself and the eternal. And he knew all these things and cared not. For that was it. That was always it. That was the point of such a fearless night.