N A M E
Imagine this: you're at a crossroads. It's all foggy and blurred at the edges - signs of a dream sequence, perhaps. You choose a road. The left one. It's a dirt road, there are potholes, and at times you swear the road is indistinguishable from the gloom on either side of your path. Still, you carry on. You meet other people. Don't know how they got there? Neither do they. Still, you carry on. Up and up. When did this road become a hill? You're searching for something. Meaning. Or maybe food. At last, you arrive. It's kind of abrupt and there's lots of hullabaloo. They're calling you over to join them. It's a not-so-secret society called NAME, or Nascent Amalgamation of Meandering Existence.