His shirt was brown, and my shirt was blue. He pulled up his hood and I pulled up mine and I looked and him and he looked at me. He was an inch taller than I was but I weighed fifteen more pounds. He was an evil little sun of a bitch, and I was the only good one left on the earth. He knew he would attack me and I knew he would too, but he knew I would wait for him to move first and I knew he was impatient. He was the last one left to kill, and I was the last one left to do it. He was the devil child, and I was the murderous kid. He leaped at me with his hands out stretched, I pulled all my chakra into my fists. He got his hands round my neck and my hands went up into his belly. He twisted his fingers into my flesh like screws, and I pounded against him like iron pistons. His flesh sprung alight, and his skin began to blister. My air disappeared, and the world went dark. He choked me, and I burnt him. He was a raging torch of holy flame, his life turned to ash. I was a stretched out Tartarus, falling into blackness. He was consumed, and I consumed myself. Together we died.
"For centuries the situation in literature was such that a small number of writers faced many thousands of times that number of readers. Then, towards the end of the last century, there came a change. As the press grew in volume, making ever-increasing numbers of new political, religious, scientific, professional and local organs available to its readership, larger and larger sections of that readership (gradually at first) turned into writers. It began with the daily newspapers opening their 'correspondence columns' to such people, and it has now reached a point where few Europeans involved in the labour process could fail, basically, to find some opportunity or other to publish an experience at work, a complaint, a piece of reporting or something similar. The distinction between writer and readership is thus in the process of losing its fundamental character. That distinction is becoming a functional one, assuming a different form from one case to to the next. "
--Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction