There's Never A Dearth Of Reasons To

I Think That The Massive, Overarching, Interconnected Systems Of Technology Tend To Make Us A Little Insecure, Somewhat Pliable, And Susceptible To Half-beliefs.

Air Travel Reminds Us Who We Are. It's The Means By Which We Recognize Ourselves As Modern. The Process Removes Us From The World And Sets Us Apart From Each Other. We Wander In The Ambient Noise, Checking One More Time For The Flight Coupon, The Boarding Pass, The Visa. The Process Convinces Us That At Any Moment We May Have To Submit To The Force That Is Implied In All This, The Unknown Authority Behind It, Behind The Categories, The Languages We Don't Understand. This Vast Terminal Has Been Erected To Examine Souls.

In The American Soul There Is A Lonely Individual Standing In A Vast Landscape.

A Mystery Novel Localizes The Awesome Force Of The Real Death Outside The Book, Winds It Tightly In A Plot.

These Are The Days After. Everything Now Is Measured By After.