no mercy is found: reality itself is a canvas. Blank. Blank. Blank. Bam, motherfucker. Go create. No excuses. Ever. Because you’re free. Suddenly, like on a bad psychedelic trip, you find yourself lost in the hall of mirrors, with no beginning and no end of “the self” vis-à-vis “the world”. Just pure creation and full, unyielding responsibility for the universe. This whole “crossroads of fact and fiction” business just got eerily real.
