I am armed with a brick against the realm of the dead. To worship them and hang out in their backyard. There is nothing to be afraid of, except for my own death. I'll replace the brick with the art tools and decorate their living room. But most of all, I'm afraid of the living. I'll close myself in a quiet mourning hall and become a loud scream against the outside world, full of oppression and helplessness.
— JH