We disgust ourselves. We appal ourselves. We’re averse to ourselves. Entirely horrified.
Why was our type allowed? Whose fault is this? Who brought us into existence – and for what purpose?
Why – the great why. The endless why. The deathless why. The question we ask in every moment of our lives. That asks itself through us. As us.
We can’t believe we exist. Can’t believe we go on. Can’t believe we survive from moment to moment.
Work in Progress 