Unknown, you asked how discpline's acquired; I don't know and you must know I don't know. For me discipline comes only out of emptiness, out of times when you want nothing except to walk into the emptiest field around even the field lacking emptiness the one marred by gray brush, with lengths of metal and dull hills. And there's no discipline there's hope, there's hope that in a marred gray field evidence might strike. And when you've seen something—those rabbit's ears flicking, that anise in the gravel—there's no discipline; there's only fear of stopping. Succumbing to the fecund field.