And from here you shall travel by boat, down the stream of the old serpent along the river before counted time. Through the gate of psychotic horror where your mind will be split in uneven oppositions beyond balance. You shall have your spirit filled with the unforgiving father, the recollection of a determined life without meaning or purpose robbed of a master signifier, its transcendence caught in an unnatural vacuum, standstill or deadlock.

Like a stray dog you vacate the site of your own execution. Alas! true love in the social world, your brother reminding, that which is left of you. He will tell of the vastness beyond the minuteness of the chronically miserable and through his reassuring words the infinite will seize to parasitize on the finite. The primitive terror which replaces the inconsistencies of all theories of death shall in its turn be replaced by the sweet dew of forgiveness and your own effortless good deeds. Recover and rehabilitate all the wounds you have been caused.

Coming ashore, on the dunes, It is well, that these days you recognise it as angst, anxitey on to death. In the past you would have said 'oh what a gas to be on this trip'. Now you mostly wonder, how long will it take for that old lake to become a still mirror.

For you have seen across the storming water, through the barely distinguishable, that which we call the necessary absurd husk around the impossible real kernel. Five seals, the black ox, the white elefant, the red dog, the green horse and the red human. 

To this day three of these primitive visions have already manifested. The ox had through the brain his spine pulled and stretched, when you lay down by the banks of the temple pond next to the Shantou school. The elephant laxated violently until it could no longer remember who he was, as his cross continental march came to an end just outside the library. The red human, well I just told you what happened to the red human. 

.