Denver is the lonesome place where broken men come to find their oblivion. There are many benches set up on the street so that one may stop during a lonely walk and sit and look at the city trying to forget. One sees those types in parks or bars or staring out the windows of small apartments. There are living ghosts and dead ghosts here. We know we have succeeded when we are no longer sure what we were trying to forget, when we aren't sure if we are dead or alive. Our only scripture is the Buddha's first noble truth (and we love the oblivion of dreamless sleep; we cannot stand to dream).