I feel like twenty-two blackbirds surrounding Billy Pilgrim's dying frame. I can picture Death herself knocking on my door right before the happiest moment of my life, but instead of taking me with her she curses the one thing I have no control over. It's bound to happen because this is the path I've chosen. The old seer painstakingly explained it to me in grave detail. What can one do when bounded by pulsating chains sucking the very life out of you? Break 'em off...