Period of HOZ

Then something swoops in, from further without still. It feels like a beak or claw, though of impossibly higher structural complexity, zeroing in and fastening around the dissarray your being had made way for — crushing it into new order. An air of incalculable disturbance in space and time becomes unbearably sensible, one which holds no hint of motion or duration. Imperceptibly, things such as age or location cease to hold any significance whatsoever. There is only a flow of warped impressions without any clear consciousness of their acquisition. It is here, or there, now or then that a relentless chant of two barbarous epithets begins to fill the crepuscular waters: >>