Confession

I began writing this novel, and the novel began to write me in lines. I may not be the same person as the one featured in this novel, and the novel may have come from outside the boundaries of contemporary times, but in truth, it came, depicted people and events, and its events unfolded differently from what I intended to write about. Perhaps these events occurred in a certain time period, in a certain village, and perhaps I had never witnessed such hurricanes, but they are real. They may occur in a certain time and space, or rather, they are a contemporary incident, but in a different form, wearing a garment that suits the structure of the era in which we live. We live in an age in which causes and technological methods are numerous, and in which models of human studies differ from one day to the next with the aim of achieving human ends and attaining their multiple and varied objectives. All of this happens, and happens at all times and places, as long as humanity exists and its whims and unlimited ambitions grow. It also happens at moments of departure from the conscious self and immersion in the mire of savage animality.
It is night, it is an earthquake, it is a hurricane, it is death, despite the floodlights, the bright beams of light, and the modern loudspeakers and lights.
"The animal man" emerges brandishing the sword of destruction, riding the horse of fire at the hour of the conscious self's departure from itself and its shedding of the origin of creation. Thus, the human being becomes as he was in his first creation, and instinct becomes the essence of this creation, and deterioration becomes the diameter of this being.