Sooner or later words force one into a choice, a narrowing down, at some point the lustrous density of all the unexpressed possibilities must be attacked, pulverized, melted down, dissolved.
“That which is no longer illusion is dead and inspires terror. This is what the cadaver does, as does the clone, and more generally, anything that can be so confused with itself that it is no longer even capable of playing its own appearance. This limit of disillusion is that of death.”
Jean Baudrillard | Fatal Strategies