" It was all a leaving light. A thing that passed in the distance, that was never yours, this and that world; empty, devoid of reason, but you could still imagine it happy: before the dark wood, before you had entered this place. Where there was no other place to go but forward. Everything you despised you could still come to miss. A little view that resembles what you once knew. So you survived the flood, you survived the apocalypse, left as the last one kneeling but what now? You have seen stars collapse on themselves, drawing light from the dark. We are living with the lives we choose, however we exiled ourselves there and to which island. What is worth dying for, you say as the blade turns further into you. A bed to rest. "

― Apollo Figueiredo , A Laugh in the Spoke