Is this art, or is this junk?

Are we really here?

Is this world a fabrication?

Some long forgotten dream?

And if a dream, then who the dreamer?

What if he awakes?

Or what if we're on a screen somewhere,

catching every move?

I guess the point of rambling on is,

"are we in control?"

 

 

 It means that we're just dolls. We don't have a clue what's really going down, we just kid ourselves that we're in control of our lives while a paper's thickness away things that would drive us mad if we thought about them for too long play with us, and move us around from room to room, and put us away at night when they're tired, or bored.

--Rose Walker, ( The Doll's House by Neil Gaimen )