That is what I sometimes do here, and think of it sometimes in a way as the late wilderness years of the West.
It is a wilderness out of which one does not emerge, but rather a wilderness which opens out on the horizon, savannah and jungle, and goes deeper into what one might think of as the heart of darkness.
An evil dark world, where nice distinctions, fine points of law, no longer have place, between predators and prey, militants bystanders observers activists pacifists radicals foreigners and civilians, all now to some extent both guilty and innocent, marked for cleansing voting consumption, a world without externalities, only brute internalities, mutually hating and hated, bestial snakelike satisfactions or frustrations of crudely and abruptly improvised Pavlovian reactions to pangs terrors prejudices urges, rather than the lost luxuries, ideas principles or plans.
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