Dogs barking on dark streets. Men barking from inside their homes, from their porches, women barking day and night. It’s strange, darkness makes men and women and dogs scream, as if the absence of light acknowledges the presence of horror of some kind. But what could that horror be. What could that be. It could be anything for any man or any dog. It could be something trivial or something colossal, and lets forget about the dogs (they aren’t the issue really). And if it’s colossal, then what makes it colossal for that man, because it’s all in the head, right? All in the head, big and small, horror and sweetness. When it gets dark and nothing can be seen, I think the mind wanders off to dire corners and alleyways. I think the horror is somewhere there, somewhere in those places, in that unfamiliarity, in those situations of unclear consequences. I think man has always been afraid of unclear consequences. If a consequence is known, however bad it might be, a man can still prepare for it. Man doesn’t like to leave a situation without answers. That would kill him. It takes something else to go through that. It takes more than the preparation of mind. It takes the strength of the spirit. Cigarettes and alcohol might help on the way to whatever that is, but cigarettes and alcohol aren’t the end in itself, because if they become the end, then the spirit has got nothing left to do but cry for the rest of time.
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