Everything, one way or another, is interconnected in weird chains. I mean that any snowflake will always, eventually, end up arriving to the desert, no matter in which entangled way it might occur. The following can serve as an example: CrazyEye is the name that my comrade Turd forged for me, and Turd is the name that he got from his parents; and, given that ultimately all the naming marvels that Turd manufactured (an activity of his about which I’ll come back to when I decide it’s appropriate) go back to that naming scorn that his parents made him suffer, one must admit that CrazyEye, to his own grief, is influenced by that distant scene in which those two strangers gave a ridiculous name to my comrade, way before he became such. Consequently, there is a minute portion of myself that can only be understood through the vile behavior of those evil parents I’ll never meet. It’s precisely (we already need to address the subject that interests us here) from that cruelty that makes someone give an insulting name to their own child that arises the first two principal questions that we, those from The Company, have built over the foundations of the doubt. The first question is: “Why did Turd’s parents conducted themselves in that despicable manner, why that disdainful name, Turd, for a child that they gave birth to?” Or, in other words, “why so much hatred where there should only be tenderness?” I repeat, this is our first principal question.