/lit/ - Literature

Fie! This is the curse I live, day after day; to meander the halls of this unending Hilbert's hotel only to encounter what is, in effect, the same room time and time again. At first, one is struck with the most acrid odor of alcohol being consumed in excess. After having my olfactory senses overloaded, my visual receptors are then put to the test, and all too often mistake the room to be one or two men mingled between scores of nymphettes... But soon my reason is restored, I see these figures for what they really are. They are no match for the callipygian beauty of Aphrodite, nor do they hold against the pneumatic divinity of that enchantress Circe, who so tempted Homer's companions with her beauty that they could not reason to feast only with their eyes. Nay, these young strumpets are about as inspiring to the poet as their hymens are intact. As I scramble through the halls, desperately seeking one shred of human sanity, I'm greeted with the same acts of carnage... The young lecher stepping out of one room to explore another, wiping his brow as though he has just finished a day's labor, as though his sowing of seed is as honourable and valuable as that of the farmer. He is about as ready for intellectual discussion as he is an honest days work. And the women! Them with the same vapid, lifeless gaze; mouths ajar; the primitive movement of limbs with body in synchronization to the music, lacking all control of themselves... It is as though their bodies are saying what their vocabularies lack the eloquence to articulate; they gyrate their hips in that fashion that is most unbecoming of 21st century women, as though they are an airport lighting the runway to give the plane an easy landing, and it is evident that they want but one thing, these women, and that they expect me to grant it to them, as has every other man who enters that room. But I stand alone, amid the madness, searching for a single soul who shares in my agony... I believe I'll die searching, entirely alone, but I'd rather be alone in these halls and preserve my sanity than to live one day under their bestial spell, for a day and a year is all the same to the animal, to live even one second overcome with carnal desire is not too different to submitting one's whole life to it.

>>18042430
They are Americans possessing the bodies of Irishmen. The only indicator that this isn't taking place in America is that there are no descendants of niggers within the quarters.