In his dream, W. says, I am having one of my terrible nosebleeds. Blood running from my nose. Blood pooling in my philtrum, and along the top of my lips, my great fat lips …
In his dream, I am laughing, and blood runs back into my throat as I laugh. And then he hears them, my last words, spoken as blood runs from the corners of my mouth: I am become capitalism, destroyer of worlds.
Lars Iyer's Blog 