Sometimes somethings happen to us, to people like us and even to beings unlike us which changes radically who we are and what we think of ourselves. And words like society, civility, tradition, culture become redundant and meaningless. What remains is something ethereal, fluid, that cannot be controlled with labels. When the only reality that appeals is the inability to feel anything, hurt, pain, love, joy. You only take pride in the animal being you are. Hunger and sleep are the only sensations and even they seem to be wanting to elude you. And at the final moment you realise that life has a penchant for fucking us all.
A mother dog with the last of her eleven dead pups.
A fisherman's catch in a last moment of self defense as death freezes it forever
Is death any better?
Is death any better?
