He hides among the others. Always there, but seldom visible. He lays in wait just under the surface, waiting for the opportune moment. Everyone knows him, no one recognizes him. Risk is his motto, reckless his way of life. He considers no one, not even himself. Safety is a sin, comfort a crime.
We keep him locked away, caged up. Seldom do we acknowledge him, but often we think of him. He knows fortune favors the bold, great rewards entail great risk. He loves danger, the unknown, chaos. When Rome is burning, he’s dancing among the flames.
Our darkest side, our brightest side.
A Toast: To the Madman