for all the time they had to find out what was really there bubbling under the surface of that face while he was still alive , all the time they could have sought to connect to the enigmatic origin of those melodies he composed , for all they could have known of the person he was aside from that faade he maintained for fear of their judgment , for all that time they wasted , they never once bothered , or else they bothered , but only half-heartedly so and gave up without putting much time or thought or love into it : and all they can do now is reverse-engineer their own asinine image of him , so that they might remember it fondly .