Self-Destruction: Les cent vingt jours de Sodome - la vie

Our memory consists of many cubes of information. Depending on our memories, these cubes become black or white. This endless whirlpool of goodness, courage, lust, and sadness is constantly arriving in me. All the emotions and actions swirl around in my head, and the inner vortex sucks them even deeper, to the subconscious level, where they settle and recreate the new me. I am completely saturated by my environment, it makes me alive. I suffer because I live, and I live because I suffer. I have new thoughts, they are like flowers - my hope for awakening. The buds blossom, and I have a desire to live. At first the flowers are white, like my thoughts, and then over time the buds wither, turning to black ash, and I come again from the point of living well to the point of suffering. Life is an endless whirlpool of events.