Who I am? Why am I here? Who does this voice belong to? I know nothing. All I know is that he comes every week, like some kind of tidal wave that doesn't require the pull of a moon phase. I listened to him talking, those intermittent sentences, about school, about certain people, and about the flickering street lights in an alley. There is no vision, no form, just a fixed direction of darkness.
Purpose: core values of materialism