Aristotle Abraham finds himself wandering down a deserted road filled with portals to his past, present and future. Quite simply, he doesn't know what the f*** is going on. Losing his mind? Dead? Maybe his brain is firing away in a frantic attempt to keep living/stay sane. Maybe he is in Hell, living out significant moments of could've, should'ves. Who knows? (I do.) Nothing makes sense and the more he tries to get a handle on his journey the less he understands.