If estrangement is no more than its effect, then so is absurdity, outdated idols of the mind. Whichever way you go there is always a further step, no lock but has its key or combination, no wall but has a door, everything unfolds at a cost you only find out on the other side. This is why there's no giving up on the real, everything else is a reduction, a simplification, useful for a time and then handed over, and you go on through the beating heart of its poem.