““Twilight was reaching its climax, no doubt: the last fires of the sun, like a violent dermatitis, ruched and ravined the horizon, giving it blisters, edema, and creases — the yellows, oranges, turquoise, ocher, reddish purples, crimsons, and browns became more vivid as the star descended, becoming bruises, scales, scabs, clots, and even bleeding eviscerations, as though the sky were reproducing the painful sequence of it's birth, what psychoanalysts call repetition compulsion.””
