Each, every organic sentient, is entitled to one and only one thing in order to flow along one's own personal life span; A ghulag type bubble must enclose sentience in order for it to stay alive, if only that;

Then, choices begin to bounce upon the bubble, variables just hoping existentially for a helping hand to stay them so they can take root and let out an symphonia of variables, fruits to feed that helping sentient so now incarcerated into a bubble, a ghulag made of fear, fear of change, which turns on everything into a shard of fear, intent upon the murdering of that fear self enclosed sentient;

For sentience is no longer the factor, the prime having be now turned into a fear machine, which, funnily, for all others floating around, looks as a matter of convenience or mal-adaptation, seems to be a fearsome death machine busily blowing up, shredding each bubble blinded by that simulacra of diabolic power now feeding upon them neighbours;

Pop pops making the wind so noisy with death