How fickle personage is. Consider this citizen, a bank clerk of no particular note, headed to work. Walking down the sidewalk he wears a nondescript trench coat and equally anonymous hat to keep the rain at bay. Among his peers, commuters headed to work (or from it in the case of the night watchmen), he is no more than a grain of sand in a pile, but who is to say that he is not the grain that turns it from a non-pile into a pile? He stops to buy his morning newspaper, leaving no impression on the vendor other than another dollar in the register despite this routine having been repeated countless times before. Newspaper underarm he continues on, stopping outside the bank to slip in through a crack in the glass doors he creates with his key. Nodding briskly to the secretary who enters a few paces behind him, he turns on the lights and prepares for the day. He sheds his coat and hat, revealing a three-piece suit and freshly combed hair. Pinning his name-tag to his chest he takes on a new identity. No longer is there a commuter hustling to work, a clean-shaven banker takes his place in the world. Taking his seat at the counter he settles into his role, ready for bank to open. Scarcely a moment later he disappears back into the tapestry of the crowd, another person to meet and forget. He has done nothing more than change into a new person before once again being consumed by the mass from which he emerged.