Standing amid the crush and throng of the human spool, there can be no redemption, no salvation. There is only yawning, gaping disappointment and frustration to fill our selfmade cells; even the emergent order of the inchoate ungulate masses cannot satisfy reason. What is this thing we yearn for?
How can we yearn and strive for the very things we invariably discard? Come Nietzsche, come Plato, come Machiavelli and Lao Tzu – we shall stand as giants in our deserted parking lot, watching with helpless frenzy as the circus humps itself wheezing onward. We shall nod to each other superiorally, knowingly, secretly rotating on the thumb of solipsism. Thought is a trap, action is stupidity. We who are about to die salute you, and burn away slowly as life feeds inexorably upon us.