A Sense Of Wrongness, Of

The Dead Are Way More Organized Than The Living.

While Yes We Can Both Agree The Sudden Recovery Of This Footage Smells Not A Little, And That We Appear To Be Bits Of Tinfoil-on-string To Some Malevolent Government Kitten, Yes Yes Yes But, Borlu, However They've Come By This Evidence, This Is The Correct Decision.

I Think There's Something Quite Interesting About The Almost Tragic Quality Of A Lot Of Overwrought Prose, Because It Has A Much More Self-conscious Awareness Of Its Own Failure To Touch The Real.

The Summer Stretched Out The Daylight As If On A Rack. Each Moment Was Drawn Out Until Its Anatomy Collapsed. Time Broke Down. The Day Progressed In An Endless Sequence Of Dead Moments.

My Google-fu Is Strong.