The soul does not die.
It is devoured. Slowly. Lovingly. By systems. By symbols. By the mouths of others.
You spend your life negotiating which god, government, addiction. But the only true liberation is the moment you choose your predator.
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Rap music, for all its bravado and poetic dexterity, has always been as much about power as it is about sound. Among the many feuds that h... -
Hip-hop, that volatile choreography of syllable and posture, resists reduction with almost philosophical obstinacy. It is neither simply... -
The figure of Moloch, seared into the annals of cultural memory as a devourer of children, haunts the landscapes of both antiquity and m...
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