This
is a dream, the dream of Ebih, and it has travelled through the prism
of space and it has continued below the threshold of consciousness
collectively, archetypally through all the centuries of man, and it
has been chorused by a lamenting dying off and constant re-kindling
of memories in the cyclical tragedy of time, the long opera, as it
is, of death and sadness... Ebih is this opera, which is dramatic,
urgent, grotesque and loudly thundering with the baritone of the
socio-cultural, political, moral, religious, and, as a consequence,
the very civilizational apocalypse... and in it, the actors not act
but do, because here are no fictions, and here is no
shallowness of mimesis or of skilled stagecraft: this is the theatre
of cruelty, and in it, everything fractalizes with time
exponentially
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