It winds around the hot heart of our home country. It winds around every infinitesimal loop of genetic information. It provokes a shuddering series of cataclysms in the planetary crust of our nation, but when our star grows cold, that cataclysm will warm us. We understand so much more. We will always be what we were going to be, wound tight in the love of the Worm.
WHAT WAS. WILL BE. WHAT WILL BE. WAS.
GRAVITY IS DESIRE
TIME IS SIGHT
... sorry wrong worm
There is no wrong worm. In this house all worms are valid.