Tell me, for how long can one remain a spectator – watching with dreamy eyes the trophy that shall never be his? Presently, it sits on the pedestal, unclaimed. The competition rages on, but he is not part of it. He does not appear to qualify. But because no one has yet placed a hand on the trophy, he does not despair. He is hoping for a miracle. He is hoping that by merciful chance, he shall be entered into the competition; placed on the field with a magical hammer to topple his foes. And then the trophy shall be his. It is obvious, to him even, the deceived, that it is a play of fantasy. But this play, this illusion, is all that keeps him from despair. Only until someone comes to claim the trophy will the entire set-piece crumble and the illusion shatter, and he be finally made to face despairing reality.