The language of this small paradise exists for us to happen upon in future days or to reflect on in former. For the visitor, the cold moment is a negotiable foray into fiction and found territory.
This is a game of theatrical self-revelation. The cards assume the emotional damage and self-doubt of the players. Win by charming the other players with your anguish.
This was the "first NY art show". It wasn't really called "trying to learn..." It didn't have a title, but that was what I'd been wanting to call it if I could've gotten up the guts, so I'll pretend it is the title.