I could draw you a diagram or present a plea, but rest assured, have little fear, there will never be an election for me. I do the electing in my life. This one puny vote is the entirety of what matters. I elect picking up a pen and turning it into words, clutching paper and farming tools, perched spinning in a desk chair or high upon a thin stool. I elect small humble tasks and they elect me right back. I declare no interest or desire, no chart, no graph, no promise or intent. When the meek start casting votes, the result will never read Jeremiah Trent.