We are wayward souls. The world makes no sense to us in its beauty and pain, its savagery and love. We wander it directionless along myriad tracks leading to some end, some source. We are entranced and terrified. We hunt the big kill and scavenge what we can along the way, our bellies roiling with hunger muscles twitching in need. We are idiots. We know nothing and are therefore possessed of a curious wisdom that defies all notions of propriety. Do not look us in the eye, lest you see something you’d rather not.
What awaits at yesterday’s horizon? Every shadow holds danger and truth, and we are so weak.
And hungry.