Post by account_disabled on Dec 14, 2023 4:45:58 GMT
Premise This story is double, because it is the same story lived by a man and then by a woman: the last survivors of a world that has come to an end, they react differently to humanity's apocalypse. Two characters, therefore, inserted first one and then the other in the same scene. What will man do when faced with the inevitability of disaster? How will he deal with the condition of the last representative of the human species? However, how will women behave in the face of loneliness and deprivation? How will you decide to act in an environment that no longer offers hope? The title recalls Guido Morselli's masterpiece, Dissipatio HG (where HG stands for Humani Generis ).
In my case OT stands for Orbis Terrarum . Apocalypsis OT #1 Tired, he sat down on the filthy floor, his hands in his tangled, dirty hair. He cried silently. He rubbed his face, wiping away tears, and looked up at the room. Destroyed furniture, shattered crockery and remnants of his life lay on the floor, silent witnesses of an unconscious anger. He had no more supplies. Was he convinced there was still corned beef somewhere, or had he eaten it days ago? Why hadn't the Phone Number Data problem of supplies been raised before? Why had he preferred to use up the petrol from the only two cars he had to drive around for no reason, rather than go in search of something useful? Why hadn't he made a supply plan? Requests. And no response. He laughed for no reason.
She scratched her now long beard, a bush of hair on which lice had nested. Under his tattered clothes, whose color was now unrecognizable, ticks and fleas had been tormenting him for months. Since he stopped washing. He stood up. He dragged his feet to the door, opened it, and took a look at the world beyond. A dusty land tortured by environmental catastrophe. Wrecks of cars and ruins of buildings and stones and blackened and dead trunks of trees. Junk, junk, rubbish of all kinds. Smoke still came from cracks in the earth, the last breath of the world. He could smell the stench of rotting flesh, but he couldn't tell whether it was animals or some other human being.
In my case OT stands for Orbis Terrarum . Apocalypsis OT #1 Tired, he sat down on the filthy floor, his hands in his tangled, dirty hair. He cried silently. He rubbed his face, wiping away tears, and looked up at the room. Destroyed furniture, shattered crockery and remnants of his life lay on the floor, silent witnesses of an unconscious anger. He had no more supplies. Was he convinced there was still corned beef somewhere, or had he eaten it days ago? Why hadn't the Phone Number Data problem of supplies been raised before? Why had he preferred to use up the petrol from the only two cars he had to drive around for no reason, rather than go in search of something useful? Why hadn't he made a supply plan? Requests. And no response. He laughed for no reason.
She scratched her now long beard, a bush of hair on which lice had nested. Under his tattered clothes, whose color was now unrecognizable, ticks and fleas had been tormenting him for months. Since he stopped washing. He stood up. He dragged his feet to the door, opened it, and took a look at the world beyond. A dusty land tortured by environmental catastrophe. Wrecks of cars and ruins of buildings and stones and blackened and dead trunks of trees. Junk, junk, rubbish of all kinds. Smoke still came from cracks in the earth, the last breath of the world. He could smell the stench of rotting flesh, but he couldn't tell whether it was animals or some other human being.