Back then you’d say, “humans,” as if they were something distant. And sure, we are too, unfortunately, and fully aware of it, we stayed apart, because not even between us can that self-delusion arise, the one needed for the deception of meaning to occur. And so, like prime numbers, like in that book, our ways took part. Mine isn’t really a “way”, it’s waiting for death with as little collateral damage as possible, which never actually happens – not even that, and so come the alchemies in the blood and the desperate wails.
A. C.