The dark hollow finds a world of cold shadows
Dreams of the lost are being gathered, spread
Nothing more to keep us alive than our hope
Modernity fails, but, life offers survival instead
If the living envy the dead, the sorrow grows
Where a wasteland is emptied
And the few survivors wander
If the world system has collapsed
Then we have no home
“Silence. It flashed from the woodwork and the walls; it smote him with an awful, total power, as if generated by a vast mill. It rose from the floor, up out of the tattered gray wall-to-wall carpeting. It unleashed itself from the broken and semi-broken appliances in the kitchen, the dead machines which hadn’t worked in all the time Isidore had lived here." Philip K. Dick
