Maybe in these moments, in that tunnel of horrors, in that rifled tube, red with the friction of the bullet of my brain, I am hurtling toward the truth beyond the truth beyond the truth beyond the truth of our world. That one beyond which there is no progress, or truth, or mind, or being, or godliness. I won’t be surprised if after one of these nights, I am left in a state of abulia and stupefied dreaming. I will only be surprised if I survive it.
