Our existence would be so different if we weren't living in a constant pursuit of the future; absorbed in the frantic nightmare of the undone. When contemplating the world, a medieval theologian asserted that furtive images, those which he could gaze upon only for a fleeting instant, coincided or came very close to the divine. For De Quincey, on the other hand, vertigo is nothing more than one of various incarnations of death.”


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