We're under the occupation of a genocidal cult.

 My morning Olive wakes me with the sun, and sometimes before the sun. I was thinking, perhaps naively, that as long as my library queue is active, the world will continue, even though this forsaken country is fully committed to destroying it.

 And what is a cipher? I ask the washtub oracle. I don't know, why're you asking me? You think I'm an oracle? I'm just a couple holes where water pipes were removed and a random brownish stain that looks like a dripping mouth! What are you crazy? Look it up! Sorry! No that's ok, I just want to inform you that any oracle worth their salt is a space of reflection, and the oracle is just thinking about things that occur to one. In other words, the oracle is you. I thought of it as an inscrutable person who doesn't give you any information, yet makes certain vague and cryptic utterances and points to stuff in random directions in order to baffle folks who want real answers, but I learn that it comes from the Sanskrit for zero, which was a gift to humanity, allowing us to think of nothing.

 Tales untold from the cryptic Obamachron.

I ask the washtub oracle, What is contentment? 

 —it's time now to go down to the fundament, to examine what has remained there of the essential, and in that way not just to attain, in this catastrophic world history of misapprehensions, the meaning of these misapprehensions, but to get to their use as well;

László Krasznahorkai

Baron Wenckheim's Return

INFINITE DIFFICULTIES

 You could start from anywhere—from the inconceivability of the essence of the water's surface, through the meaning, forever hidden from us, of vegetable and animal life, right up to the weighty error storm deriving from the cult of measurements, the main thing, thought the Professor—

Lásló Krasznahorkai

Baron Wenckheim's Return