destroy a column of marble (with an implement of your choosing) and what are you left with? mere molecules of crystalline calcium carbonate, colluding to form... dust. to be sure.
destroy a column of time-based sentiment, with your bare hands, and what are you left with? bruised palms and knuckles, yes. okay. but you're also knee deep in the ghosts my friend, wading through the hollowed out husks of the dreams and memories and wants of others. watch your step.
there's a certain stratum that must be broken through (with various palm blows and knife hand chops) to get to the promised sands, light years away from the metaphysical muck of postmodernity.
have no doubt that it is a stark and anemic interface (one of many to be sure), to be deconstructed so that WE may reconfigure. so that WE may give the thing "life."
MOVE, swiftly now, through the weather, sweep the hair from the eyes, and most importantly, tread heavily.
your motivation? your spark, so to speak, figuratively meaning the thing which was meant to be spoken but never heard?
a 20 megaton blast (quite literally) straight to the sternum, rattlin them bones and breakin them stones. down to... dust. to be sure.
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