carnage, but also a reason to assemble. We feel it now, in our bones, this inheritance
of loss: the carnage continued as the assembly boiled down into the plastic assembly
line of surrender.
Nowadays we look to past ashes as the soothsayer approaches tea leaves, even as we
are backed into a thousand corners. Unborn children too, eavesdropping from their
mothers’ wombs on the strange hell outside, understand that every point is populated
with heartbreak—every line has become an intersection, every corridor a cul-de- sac.
Born aflame they soon realize that each defiant gasp of air is a beheading
At this critical juncture, perhaps what we secretly crave is to admit defeat in the face
of so much rot. It just might be that only then, within that plot twist of revolutionary
act, will we uncover the hidden whispers necessary to reforge our ties and rebloom
our clasped hands. It is important now more than ever to violently trust each other
with our lives: the road to perilous humility will only become steeper, while the toll
gate to premeditated regret is forever displayed in HD, haloed and in vogue, ready to
consume and be consumed.
Maybe the children know the answers; maybe they have always been trying to tell us.
Their cries remind us that all human screams speak in the same flagless tongue of
1. Around This Campfire
3. Native Speaker
4. Self (Dis-Covery)
5. Eat A Kid, Carpe Diem
Click here to download Construct #15.