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It swells, it churns and it boils as it waits, this diabolical ocean of faith and cowardice which men call 'Global Governance.' To be honest with you, I have had enough dreams in which overturning a large rock to reveal a thriving colony of writhing, kicking insects plays a paramount role, and this repetition of symbolism of such obvious pertinence has caused me to shy away from the larger public discourse, opting instead to pursue my own investigations into the cyclic nature of the moon's erosion with regard to the topmost peaks of its most prominent craters, combined with a long standing fascination with the Sanskrit word sunyata, meaning 'emptiness,' and much more than emptiness.

The earth empire is doomed to succeed, and for that reason, and that reason alone, I have deemed it prudent to step back at this time, let evolution take its course (by 'evolution' I mean, of course, devolution), and draw what I see. Phenomenology of the pencil and of the brush, a snail's trail of an inquiry, to be sure, but as of this writing the only path I can trust even provisionally. There are certain fail-safes in place, a network of Dwellers on the Threshold, and against their restricting grid I see diminishingly few options.

Erosion on the moon, erosion on the sun, erosion on the human soul, despite the scientists' hollow claims and disingenuous cries and charts is, indeed, a possibility. Erosion on the earth, on the other hand, is a mere bureaucratic whimsy away.

Posted by James Bradley on 12/3/11

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