Flemish Proverbs II - To be a pillar-biter. (To be a religious hypocrite.)

To say that we will end in contradiction would be the ultimate hypocrisy. Our beginning is the end of the Iron Age, so to reverse this would be to invoke a Copernican Revolution within the law of the Fool.

The Holy Fuckrament and the wish for vice as a prayer to lost virtues.

We end as we begin and all in between is an interim. Pain the infinite unifier – until it becomes a beam in the mouth.

An old peasants' funeral game was to prop up the corpse and attempt to toss potatoes into its mouth. The grotesque humour of death is only fitting for us, but so too its beauty. For Christ it was only fitting that he be surrounded with pillars and the heaping of the earth over them. We are all one in death, and with each death the earth falls again and again. All is preparation for what is already here, and this is particularly true in execution and judgement. Christ was not the Death of Rome, but each Roman. The ever-present, the Eucharist for mouths so filled with their emptiness.

There is nothing in the end which was not already there in the beginning. Every founding is only a memory. Thus too the exegeses of death and war – the end of every Word that came before it.

And in the Religious Wars only that which was in the beginning: the Death of Christ, but also every Christian who stood before Him. The web as counterpart to Athena's owl, and each Man of God fitted with wooden teeth.

The endless deaths of the peasantry, and the turning under of their soils. The very mouth of the earth....

Here Rome re-emerges, washed up far ashore, and with potatoes in its mouth. Every war the hundred-handed tossing and hurling of stones – to build pillars of what may never be eaten.