Now that the journey for the genuine article has ended, the progress from the previous season was severed. For the plot have went off the rails, and devolved to it's weaknesses, dragged to death, the substance has abandoned ship. For what value has left? When it's was already spent. What words could have been said, was tainted, it's pretentious already. A social commentary, as everyone perceived, but rarely seen for what it really is, a mirror hidden in plain sight, a work of self reflection for it's own audience. It should have ended earlier already, nothing else is left to said, the melodrama has made the water bitter, in the river of a good end. As we follow our beloved hero, through the dreaded snow of boredom, the season of winter, as it comes. As it becomes a shell of it's former self, the underwhelming encore has ended, the last dance if you will.
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