People are cunning and determined and focused. As you read these words, people are busy at the relentless work of ruin. I know that evil exists and I know that evil exists because I know that people exist.

Evil is rare yet ordinary. It wears pyjamas and it knows television. It hordes the designer jeans of your favourite actors. Evil has bad teeth and breath, but also vanity, so that the people who speak of these things will soon be terminated. When I drop my exhausted words on the earth I know that they are not seeds. My contumulated indignities will never germinate. My contempt is a cheque that no no one will cash.

We are not lords of the vital principle. We exploit and manipulate. We are lucky to be here and only lucky, and soon we will not be here, forever, and I have begun to think that this is lucky too.

I lie in bed and contemplate the inexorable peopleless future and I see that it is good. Exterminate the bees, beetles, flies, and butterflies, and all balance is lost. Every living thing suffers. Remove the people and nature thrives. We are of nature, we are above nature. We tell ourselves that we are the apex of Being, and we subdue and plunder only because we can.

There is a hole and every day the people get in. They squat among our families. The office people, the traffic people, the politician people, the television people. They infect our homes with miseries and consternation, like odious vermin. Even when we are alone they breathe the selfsame oxygen. You know what I am saying to you.

There is a time to become well. There is food and poetry and music, beauty I have forgotten, people that I love. I want to love and to fight, to prevail, to fight, and to love.