He remembered that a minute earlier he
had been trying to direct it away from his leg and in his clumsy
misdirection at the appearance of the pillar of light there it was
under the nail curled up in fetal agony.
As the mosquito slowly descended he could see tragedy more clearly
than he ever did when not snorting the fumes, and yet it rolled off his
mind weightlessly. He was giddy in brotherly love and yet naked, he
wanted to copulate with the world. Even more, he wanted to reproduce
his ideas with her. He sensed that all humans fell victim to this
substance: they got giddy in love and reproduced, they gained meaning
in their lives from this feeling, and then after nature got them to
beget children, she plugged up the dopamine somewhat like the waning
high he felt with his brother. He felt the insect monster inject him
with the malaria of tragedy: random images were kicked about in his
mind like starving dogs allowed to propagate on the streets incessantly
from the non-interference of Buddhist principles. He saw all the
suffering species from an aerial perspective for he was being carried
around on the wings of the mordant mosquito that had scooped him up on
its back.
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