While watching the slow exectuion, she had recalled an old story of a prophet who at one point in his caeer was met by an angel who cut him open from throat to groin. The angel then washed the propet's heart with holy water, and filled it with gems symbolizing knowledge and faith. She had thought, absratcly,
Wouldn't we all like to imagine that we are so within, filled with valuable, beautiful and indestructible things, not this vulnerable and stinking offal?
-a quote from some random novel I'm reading. Good though, right? Who wouldn't let the angel slice them open to replace the stinking mass that is our flesh? To be replaced by some irrefutable holiness. Some
truth? Of course you wonder, whether truth is what we really desire, or just some kind of truth to make us feel better about the stinking bag of flesh we are.
Hey!
Look at this neat picture of our planet...
Oh America. Seeing you and being happy, but so not happy. Knowing your truth and seeing our truth. The truth of those with power and those without. Lights symbolising eternity, the gems we hope to find within our bodies, our souls. Does light really symbolize that which is desired, don't we all want a little darkness, a little fun? Give me back my rainforests. Take your fucking light. I don't need it anymore.
Oh, how the white world shines. Obviously, exhibting our divine glory. Oh the benefit of whiteness, so close to GOD!