The invisibility of the underlying fractures of the bone structures of winter.
We suffer the glut of their fearful tidings.
There was an instance in which it all mattered.
When there were no distractions of ultimate trivia.
But then they piled in like falling creatures.
Incapable of mounting the necessary challenge to existence.
Incapable of putting themselves through pain.
Incapable of wondering.
Incapable of understanding what it is like to be disadvantaged, in spite of their own incredible disadvantages of intellect and feeling.
Wealth gives them the privilege of not having to think too deeply about anything of great value beyond the shambolic selfish proximity of their immediate concerns.
They imagine themselves in direct connection with the royal family, as if to share some unique, communal bond of eternal good breeding.
How hilariously dispicable they are.
How the weather despises them.
Fucks up their barbicues.
Wrecks their events.
They scuttle indoors at the slightest provocation of hostile conditions.