Hello, losers If you're reading this, you might be really, really broke at the penthouse. Please forgive any grammatical errors in the text for I'm still learning to write. I know this doesn't mean anything at this moment but just like the universe you're sitting in right now had an introduction, which, is still unknown, (it's so ironic that we know so much about the painting, but know nothing about the painter or his brush.) this strand right here needs to give an introduction to why in hell is he willing to write about the same thing a lot of people are writing about. I'll try and keep this as quantized as possible to maintain a professional confinement. So here goes... Almost got out of 12th grade, courtesy: Coronavirus, not a lot of friends, crazy nerd, a very Relativistic person. And that's all folks. (From looney toons). Now, let's get to what I actually want to talk about in the very first blog of mine. If you pay some heed to the title of this blog, you will notice that I am talking about just one Spectator. Who is he anyway? Why is he there? Is it a person? Is he something we call God? Where is he sitting? Is he watching us? Trust me when I tell you that this spectator is encapsulating a lot of information. He is quirky, needless and stubborn. He tells us what is happening but cloaks the explanation. Shatters every single intuition, whatsoever, we have about what we see around. And if you think about it from an inflationary point of view, you'll come to a conclusion that every single one of us, the consciousness, actually, is him. Further views on what actually probably happened and what could have happened, will be covered in future articles. Later.