[100 Challenge] Ocean_35

Naming places = remnant of animism. 

Literature not only being a holdout for the gods, a space where they have retreated to in the modern age, or an interiority into which they pulse, but to language itself being the god. Language: god. Breath. Mantra. Of itself, “Like a child playing a game alone.“

Being breathed: we are breathed. Flip agency of “i am breathing.” The plants breathe us, the air wind breathes us. 

Language: imagination delivery system. 

Death is god, in that this is that massively greater-than-thou thing to which one devotes oneself and in which one is subsumed. We are all experiencing a slow death. Family, Sex, writing, travel; all fail to sate the shitting, hungering, dying animal. And religion? Will it, too, only temporarily distract from the essential terror, ineptitude, and meaninglessness of the child ensconced in the body of the adult?

Beings growing on top of beings: lanaias/vines worming up trunks, bacteria in guts, mitochondrion into cells, thoughts on top of minds. Everything permeable and permeated. Distinct yet nondestinct.