Mr. Swan, I envy you. You live in a canal in an extremely wealthy area. Your winter consists of paddling around a sparkling blue (though at some parts murky green) waterway. The most annoying thing to you is those loud ducks that congregate around you behind people's decks and those squawking squabbling coots. You can get children (and adults) to feet you bread almost whenever the whim hits. Does anybody ever tell you that you aren't more than an object? Does anybody ever tell you you've failed? Does anybody ever tell you that you should be dead?
Is there any satisfaction in being human? Does it mean anything more than experiencing pain and seeing others in pain and feeling completely unable to help? Is humanity any more than a cruel creation of beings set to oppose each other, to prey on others, to live a life of bitter hatred towards others?
It seems sometimes that love is just an illusion, and emotion a curse.
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