At the heart of existential thought is the ultimate pointlessness of every thing. As an example look at the exemplary career of TwoShoes. After 46 years of solid photographic production, to wind up in a toxic waste site surrounded by dummies, is truly absurd.
Ever been up against this? Forty-six years is a long time. A plastic bag floats in the waters of English Kills at the Western Beef Terminus. I can only blame it on nothing