Introduction: How do Images Participate in the Annihilation of Humans?

It feels, right now, as if we are all living in a cloud of slowmoving sand: we inch forward through it, nervously, not seeing a yard in front of us, and when we come across a pile of orange trees, scattered at our feet like an assassin’s victims, we know that we are lucky. They were mistaken for us. Death is so close that it doesn’t see you anymore. It mistakes you for trees, and trees for you. You pray in thanks for this strange fog, this blindness.