Casu Marzu

You feel a sudden moment of disgust and don’t know why. You just run your finger across a dusty surface and see the answer right there. You imagine mites feeding off our skin scales. One day they will grow and become the size of mosquitoes or flies. Mosquitoes and flies will become pets that feed on human cadavers and excrement. Mutilated and maggot-eaten remains of birds and rabbits.

Who will be the master? The master of decay?

There’s a human hand – unable to operate the machinery of control from under the ground, for science is no longer progressing; it’s all over the place. So much to our longing for transcendence.

Who cares?

Organs will dry up and eventually become meaningless matter. It’s a question of time. Skin and bones will crumble into dust.

I tell you, I’ve read too much Cioran.

These images appeared in my head, all from looking at a picture of the Casu Marzu dish – cheese containing larvae of flies. Cheese flies. Bacon flies. Flies that can live in your intestines and make you shit blood.

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