Laying stagnant on a strangers coach, why do we feel at ease? Rather tragically people can release their guards while under a microscope, but of what kind exactly? Can it be his or her years of study dissecting minds, a weightless air inhaled, an inviting vacuum absorbing our entire being or absence of judgement? Wherein all thoughts, words and discoveries are not condemned by religion, society or ethics, but embraced merely by dialogue. Perhaps psychologists exist as material voices from subconsciousness and in this inner sanctum we are granted internal conversation aloud.

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