I see it but am I seeing it?   
 
Were we mannerists, we’d describe this as Absence from This.   
 
Quick version: A wall of calm; also a form of self-capture: The cross-hatching selfie that allowed ancestors to exchange traits for others... has just about run out of steam, your profane friend interjects, & leaves us wondering, once more what there is about our plush solitude that makes us think we will ever get out, or even want to.   
 
My version ushers in even more non-urgencies of grueling yet quickened aversion over entropy. The tide appears to notarize all of this — And best, 

we have come to our senses putting up fresher signs of interminable equivocation.   

Apologies to your mate.