A useless and futile feeling, anticipation. Borders on the outright sadomasochist. To wait in anticipation is not only more so, but simply slow execution 60 times every minute, till the next burning desire and urge to go and check again, in vain, for a sign, a heading, a wave of the sweet palm or so much as a single word.
This ragged man is exactly same place he has been for ten millennia, asking the same question: when or even if?
QED.
