Number two of the trilogy struck me as familiar initially especially when it came to repulsive characters and a dissociated narrative pattern which oddly seemed to come full circle. I feel like Beckett speaks to me somewhat because my tendency to relate gets nudged here and there. I feel it or detect it lightly at least...the failure and unfulfillment and bloated attention to meaningless details only because it is magnified by pathological levels of boredom from waiting for the end. But I've failed too. For myself, it's all suspicion and no grasp. In hindsight, I should have left it unrated. Sorry. We're all sorry.