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“I cannot describe to you what it is to burn alive. To lose one's hair in an appalling gust, to hear the fat sizzle beneath one's crackling skin. To have one's vision filed with red and then black as one's eyeballs burst. The pain is indistinguishable from the flames. The flames, they are a scream. A chorus roaring from every pore, singing agony. Agony - no, the notion is too bounded, the name inadequate fro that mystery which transmutes a live layer by layer, to matter.” — S.J. Shank
I cannot describe to you what it is to burn alive. To lose one's hair in an appalling gust, to hear the fat sizzle beneath one's crackling skin. To have one's vision filed with red and then black as one's eyeballs burst. The pain is indistinguishable from the flames. The flames, they are a scream. A chorus roaring from every pore, singing agony. Agony - no, the notion is too bounded, the name inadequate fro that mystery which transmutes a live layer by layer, to matter.