Did you know, for example, that your brain is a cancer? Sure, you may deny it, but of course you would, sick bastard of a virus – look, I’ve even grown fond of you. The truth, though, of course, is that we are all born with wounds in our heads, hideous holes that can’t help but be there, it is a defect, but a natural fallacy. And like typical bodies we send all our foolish antibody nonsense and whatnot to our heads, and when the skull has got so much blood and air and sugar it hasn’t engine enough to burn, a cancer to bound to form, stupendous things, that slowly take root and grow fine, long hairs and shock the limp body into obeying. This is the moment everyone dreams of, the only moment dreams are possible, when a baby starts to keen.
I have smelt rotting apples all day.