“…Between street vendors and rhythmic breathing; down pathetic streets and machine-gunned intersections; around bashful emotions both true and fake; and with rising erections warmed by music that was surely imagined they neared the outskirts of Warsaw, Poland.

The attitude of the city changed — deconstructed by war, it drifted back in time… and Sergeant Richter and Major Faust, steering into the past, drifted with it. We gods appreciate the dichotomy of explosives, nowadays. At first, they were scary things full of noise and destruction, but now we can see the beauty of their purpose. Level the present and for a time allow mankind to embrace the past, for when all men embrace the past they are embracing the primal side of things: when killing meant survival. And, as is within the realm of survival, killing becomes justified so that certain guilt may not restrict one’s survival over his neighbor. Within this mentality we are able to destroy with a clear conscience. All good things come to an end, however… There is an awakening once the river of blood coursing through revolving doors becomes too overwhelming to endure, and thus new philosophies are born from men and women who have seen the errors of primal living; philosophies and ideologies that allow for the progression of civilization to resume. And so it does… for a time. Until those philosophies become outdated. So in order to jolt progressive thinking mankind would simply promote primal thinking and begin bombing one another again. Then, once cities are properly destroyed and families are properly devastated, the revolving doors pass once more so that those men and women of sinless killing can arrive at a new collective and think up new dogmas to govern progression… for a time. Rebuild. Relive. Destroy. Kill. Repeat. The wheels turned round and round (counterclockwise?) as Sergeant Richter and Major Faust drove deeper into the ruins of Warsaw, Poland…”

About Connor Wilkins

Quickly, quickly... take your seat. Our storyteller is about to begin. Shhhh. Listen... His pipes are fluting emotions of myth and fable, but don't be fooled by fantasia for there are truths hidden within his unworldly tellings. We're drifting now... back in time to a world only he remembers.
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