The unresolved silence between souls never truly fades; like the lover after a heartbreak, or the tyrant after a massacre, we look upon it with fear and hate as it awakens before us. The ineradicable void that swallows us in the end, that breathes a frail surrender upon the crumbling earth, weaves and binds us to its woeful fate, like ravenous vultures perched on a pile of corpses. You see, my friend, it is the End of the World. We are either the conquerors or the conquered. We are the last men, embodiments of all our unknown fears. And since the ultimate mask of Death has been shed, where would our next solace be?
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From @marinkay