At some point in the life of every scapegoat, the clock will strike the midnight hour, the masks will come off, and the aggression of family will reveal itself.

I could see Mount Sodom beyond the distant shores, where the goat had been chosen as a sacrifice to redeem the wicked tribe.

Inspired by the Book of Leviticus, the artist saw the goat as an archetype for Jesus Christ, the "suffering servant of God," who carried our sins with his cross as an act of redemptive suffering. Thus, the Lamb of God is the Last Scapegoat.

I carried the image of 'The Scapegoat' with me and that ethereal moment when it seemed as if I had entered the bleak scenery stayed etched in the back of my mind for reasons I could not yet comprehend.

Life was simple and stable. That was my mantra of self-deception. It was how I stayed in denial of the complexity and dysfunction that had engulfed me.

I was in denial of the glaring reality that my existence depended on my willingness to comply with the family policy of me earning the splinter of space they granted to me.