"Why something rather than nothing?
That is a lazy question.
Try a real one, a really stupid question:
Why am I me?"
- Absolute Secrecy: On the Infinity of Individuation, Nicola Masciandaro

Dust covering my hands, shoes and every visible surface; the complete absence of kind chatter, the conventions that crumble when touched - a material disintegration bordering on the categorically interstitial.

What I've come to identify as geospiritual wrongness is experienced as the timeless inability of the landscape to afford man; I feel its echo in Adam's punishment, accursed and newly growing fangs, a solid body transformed by the void.

All cosmic horror depends on this: our tactical adaptation fails and we become unable to maintain the integrity of a disrupted conceptual scheme.

I look to the sky, but it is relentlessly grounded to the earth and its arid blood.