There were over-used words hovering in the airless over-large building that was supposed to have been lit on fire but was not due to inaction. The lack of fire prevented certain dreaded actions from being ceased. The dreaded actions instead unfurled onto the laps of unsuspecting watchers: the overseer was within the enactor, causing trouble, a misanthrope, instead of within the watchers, as was originally thought. The misanthrope swelled under poorly-lit inspections and became jaundiced due to his elliptical wanderings, however, the end result was "it's ok." Which is so grand, don't you think? In light of the knotting intestines, the foul, rancid tapeworm expulsions, the lack of consumption of anything replenishing?
What is being said here is not new, it is old, from the olden days, from before our times. Trust me, it goes back a long way, to the time of the heretics and before. The tremor gives way to magic, if given time enough and space. I have to go lick the wall now and contemplate spirituality and how I can get some. If you know, please let me know.