Twice dead. Living after the death of God. We seek our shadows in the stream of illusions of a sleeping world. We live in a world of total substitutions. A world of numbers and ghosts. A world where all words have been erased and lost their meaning. An era of the profane. An era of unbearable vulgarity of existence. The realm of the banal. Chanting its own emptiness. The spirit has finally left our world. Time is shrinking. No more time. No space. The agony of nothingness. A spirit of barrenness hovers over the orphaned earth, doomed to experience the last loneliness. Fear fills the soul. Everything is clear. The last secrets are revealed. The wind from the abyss scorches our face. Who said that? I ask you, who? Answer me.