Existence breathes, and epochs pass, leaving Civilizations that become monuments, then crumble to memory, and are long forgotten when that breath comes again. In all these epochs, Infinity reigns supreme.
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Rarely does one have a good reason to kill.
The ordinary killings across existence are committed for reasons that dissolve under examination, petty reasons, inherited reasons, the reasons of beings who were angry that morning or who had been angry across their entire lives without ever locating the original source.
Most who kill cannot defend what they have done once the killing is finished. They invent explanations after the fact. They construct narratives that their listeners are expected to accept without too much scrutiny, and the listeners accept because examining the explanation would require examining the whole bloody arrangement of existence that produced it, and nobody wants to do that work.
