blessed are the wombs that are barren
blessed are branches that bear no fruit
blessed are the rivers run dry

because we have come to the end of the world

smmyzqsl:

thomas ruff

Tahoma calls, it’s waiting there to get rid of us all.

You’ll take the ride/to leave this town/along that yellow line.

Perhaps in that ponderous counterspectacle it would at last be possible to see how the world was made.

Perhaps in the world’s destruction it would at last be possible to see how it’s made.

“It took two days to cross that ashen scabland. The road beyond fell away on every side.” - Cormac McCarthy, the Road.

“They set out shuffling along the blacktop. Each the other’s world entire.” - Cormac McCarthy, The Road.