We are of secondary importance, tertiary, the best of us. We are peripheral. How is it that those who were the primary, those who were of the primal space-time and imagination, passed through this world like we do? Or what did they themselves seem as to be when they walked the earth? Could it truly have been that Jesus, and to a lesser extent, Alexander and Shakespeare and Einstein — how could they breathed this ordinary air? Or is it something that is imbued upon we side-goers as time goes on? That perhaps those alpha humans were like us, until the shadow of the long year passing cast them in some special glow? ...I wonder who of us shall be so named as the luminaries of yesteryear. Could it be me, too? Could it be you?