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We could barely even recognise each other, let alone differentiate. With our hair slicked down with awful, a faces glistening with translucent slime, our clothes rotted and tattered, and revealing bodies in equal and complementary states of decay, we appeared to each other simply as shining, semi-fluid forms in the darkness. We reached for anything we could consume - food, old and new, detritus from the floor, are own squelching shit - and washed it down with all the booze we could manage
[...] If we kept on, I knew, our skin itself would leave us, rotting from our bones and pooling at her ankles, until there was nothing at all to tell one of us from the other, or any of us from anyone else. Even in the haze, I understood what I had achieved. I’d stripped everything back, rendered myself down to nothing but the shit I contained. I had transcended even wildness and animality, become bacterial, amoebic, viral. I was infinite and self-dividing, no longer near to death, but death itself, airborne and particulate. The skin of the world had been peeled away, and what was beneath, I knew was the true face of God: pulsing and writhing and ugly with life. (p.300)
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