Revolt against deep forms of social regimentation
I then laid myself down in the deserted streets. I roamed the wind-swept alleys. I prowled the cold, steely security fences. I called out: “Celebrate Death with all your appetites, your selfishness and all the capital sins!” In my darkest hour, the disappointment of unfulfilled expectations left me empty, drained, and I cursed them all.
(Remix from Arthur Rimbaud’s A Season in Hell)