Somewhere surrounded only by the smoldering remnants of a fractured psyche, a man makes use of the smoldering embers. All formerly valuable possessions, long devoid of any meaningful value, are relegated to makeshift piles of timber. Yet, they were adaptable as is the man whom chooses he should be, and transform into something more designed for survival. Reborn amidst fault and smoke, the ladder that is chaos demands a sacrifice be made to forge atonement. A piece or pieces of the man must die or the whole will be devoured instead, as only death can pay for life.
The flicker of a lighter here is a bit ironic, given the circumstances. A man could use what was already provided to ignite a flame, but instead he chooses to create his own fire. And still let everything burn. All around him everything burns, yet he doesn’t use the blaze as a catalyst nor try to stop it. He is complicit with both stagnation and adaptation. When he inhales puffs of his smoke and theirs, a moment of clarity consumes him… Burn them all.
Burn the ideals of cultural excellence. Incinerate the societal norms. Torch the bourgeoisie. A man has no economic security, no financial freedom, and no social mobility, yet the man is rich. In visions & daydreams, all those who cling to antiquated ideas perished. Just as the man chooses his smoke, he has chosen his path. He knows he can ill afford to let the past dictate the future he now dreams, lest the same mistakes transpire. There are those he’d wish to save and those he could help along the way. But a man is much more wary now and focused on his own. The future seemed so bright yet still, though, it could just be the flames scorching everything remaining in sight-line.