- I imagine anger as a viscous, filthy substance that can be absorbed.
«You will return to dust» is the words of God to Adam and Eve, who broke the commandment and first realized the limb, pain, labor, and internal struggle. The fate is a cycle of pollution and cleansing. A hero can’t contain a little thought that is rapidly growing, soaks the whole space with dirt. Awareness comes quickly and attempts are made to clean the room, but it is only a conditional act in a fully contaminated place. It’s all in circles. Not a peak or an exit from anger, an endless cycle, but a continuation in it, the only possible form of existence.
It’s the anger of the inner, it’s like a swamp. The process of realizing that it does not bring any good and resuscitation. Anger from helplessness, anger caused by the need to accept and accept. Anger you can’t even express because there’s no recipient. It starts with a small thought that seems to be in control, but the concentration on it creates a whole genius. Anger, no exit, no form of dialogue that exists only as internal pressure.
