Bystander(s)
You wonder how a mass of people don't try to save the man who is next in line. Sure, they know it's wrong, but they don't want to be next. So they'll look on and... enjoy the show.
The clouds break over the gas station. You're called over, and without further ado, the officer begins to bash your head in with a crowbar. A cheer after every blow. With every passing crunch, more blood lets from your nostrils and eyes. A hard swing, a cheer, and another. And it hurts. But it won't stop. You know it won't stop until you're dead.
Everywhere, the process of no process is
fractal,
fractured,
fracturing.
You wonder. You wonder as you sip your peppermint tea, curl up near a warm fire, and vacantly look out the winter window.
The clouds break over the gas station. You're called over, and without further ado, the officer begins to bash your head in with a crowbar. A cheer after every blow. With every passing crunch, more blood lets from your nostrils and eyes. A hard swing, a cheer, and another. And it hurts. But it won't stop. You know it won't stop until you're dead.
Everywhere, the process of no process is
fractal,
fractured,
fracturing.
You wonder. You wonder as you sip your peppermint tea, curl up near a warm fire, and vacantly look out the winter window.
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