I don't have an original thought in my head. I'm a writer without a world. Without a friend or an ally. Don't tell me any stories. Anecdotes are cliche. Burn the bridges and eat the flames. Push the door ajar, then kick it open. Stories bore me, so let's invent something new. Let's dance on the bridge as flames engulf it, let's eat the fire and drink the smoke, let's destroy everything—and reconstruct the universe.