"I hate headlights", Saint Olives echoed again. "They are imperfect. The rainbow of day becomes a bescumbered nothing."
Adolfo said nothing, watching the road.
"Apologies, that was simple of me," continued the saint. "One sees them only once on the whole trip, and they become closer, and light becomes your life, and the life of all with you, and then they pass your vessel, becoming nothingness with the horizon behind you."
Adolfo only nodded; his heart was heavy after a life that tasted of nickel.
And it was too late, after the day. Adolfo bore a visage of buttery skin and realized this hatefully in the grey gloaming. His eyes were dead foxes caught in rusty scorn, loathing the planet and life. He did not want to sleep, only because he needed to brush his teeth. To sleep without brushing your teeth is to awake with an ignorant goblin in your mouth...
"...destroying all that is not Ghoul." finished the saint.
This was true.
хлэб и Воля