A thunderbolt lightning gathers its pitchfork portrayal- all awhile eager eyes abound within a desirously dilapidated favourite room studio. The emotions are swimming, cutting sharp and heartfelt against the surface of a most buoyant frame named: The world over their conscientiously constructed shoulder. All of these rubberband-it aficionados and their fifty-meter turn toward the promised lands of both separation, sweet segregation. Given an Olympic-sized medal for their bare-naked bravery alone