God only knows how often I've used that word - filth, dirt - before...
God only knows how many times I wrote about it, inundating the pages with my nausea, with my vomit of human dirt...of human filth.
I can't stand filthy people...no, no, am not talking of physical hygiene here (even though this is one level), am talking of human dirt, human filth...that filth that corrupts the soul...or maybe it's the other way round, the soul that filthies everything it touches...
Good Lord, how much filth I have seen in my life! It is fucking amazing, that I am not in the garbage dump too. Now -- this is a miracle in itself.
I must be doing something right somewhere...or maybe it's just this seed, this nausea seed planted in me...that makes me want to vomit each time I come across another piece of filth...
Filth is human corruption...you need to have been around to be a witness of it...
It's the mites that eat away at the fabric...it's the worm that gnaws away at the self...it's the caterpillar that never metamorphoses into a butterfly and keeps crawling like vermin, it's the spider that weaves one lie after another, it's the cockroach that raises its head from the sewage pipe, from the shit gutter, it's the mosquito that feeds off your blood, it's the fly that sticks to your sweet skin like glue, it's the parasite that eats away at your intestines...
And here you are, defending yourself, protecting yourself from all this pest--- you spray, you clean, you neutralize, you splash detergents, you scrub, you polish, you wipe, you sweep, you dust, you disinfect, you...
Yes, it must be a miracle, definitely is a miracle...
