In a self sustained continuum of thought there is no end only continues conclusions. However in a self demolishing continuum there is no beginning only the promise of end. Which ironically what we as a culture are, ironic simply for the fact that in our eyes the doors open before us with endless possibilities, when in fact each door narrows our reach reducing the infinite possibilities to one of imminent death. Not immediate death, simply a death looming, crouched in the car, loaded in a gun, cocooned in an organ, patiently biding its time as we close door after door.
The saying "Life goes on" is merely a motivation to close more doors, tearing through life viscerally devouring our own ineptitude to understand why things happen. I can only promise one answer and that is of finality. However glorious or uneventful the path.
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