We felt things. Like great, dumb animals, we were only feeling. We thought like cattle lowing in the pasture. We thought like pigs snuffling in the dirt. What could we understand of what we were called to do?
But we were called, W.'s sure of that. We felt things. We felt the apocalypse approaching. We knew it, as animals know when an earthquake's coming. We sent up our howls into the night.
Don't you see?, we said to people. Don't you feel it?, we said, grabbing them by the lapels. We all but carried placards out into the street. The end is nigh: isn't that what wrote itself across every page of our papers? Repent: didn't that word repeat itself in everything we said?
Lars Iyer's Blog 