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.

Too much has been forgotten in the name of memory.

A Catholic is raised with the idea that he will die any minute now and if he doesn't live his life in a certain way, this death is an introduction to an eternity of pain.

Prayer is a practical strategy, the gaining of temporal advantage in the capital markets of Sin and Remission.

We surrounded ourselves with smoke and loud noise. That's the way we chose to live. I'm prepared to defend it.

Ask yourself this question. Do we have to be humans forever? Consciousness is exhausted. Back now to inorganic matter. This is what we want. We want to be stones in a field.

Even when you self-destruct, you want to fail more, lose more, die more than others, stink more than others.