Into every life some evil must fall. Into each evil must be a theory.
All life is noise. Each idea exists in a sphere; each action exists in context. Everything is temporal. Life is layered into aesthetic and structural sections, where the aesthetic is the province of the terrified. Existential anxiety will bring you down. He's dead. Noone hears everything. Into each evil is the freedom of the night. Can you feel them breathing? They do as you. They do as you. The horror, the horror. The abstraction to a nihilism sublime as dirt under nails or the blossoming of cancroid fat cells in a diseased and drunken liver.