It's something many dystopian fictions get wrong: the way it just slips in, slowly and passively.
Madness string 101929
There's a dreadful wind blowing. Absolutely marvelous. Nobody else out. Just me and the stars and the moon and the wind, the glorious, glorious wind. We danced. We sang. She threw leaves in my face and I blew her a kiss. I was shouting at the heavens. THIS is LIFE.