“What the world has to offer is a cancerous groin, a series of concave hollows. A tiny man sits across the harbour, packing gunpowder into a cluster of ashy holes, but nothing will stop biology from working. His face is jaundiced from observation and his eyes are deepest, charcoal grey. We, the world, the human disgraceful race, will persevere in an orgy of mastication. As the cancer rots our vision we will go on chewing, a flesh-eating monster. But that tiny man is too close to the vortex to resist consumption, and his is the clearest view”.