Underneath a starless sky a Shadow walks alone, dissolving in the black of night while its breath gets lost into the silence. Slumbering thoughts go back for centuries, when everything was different, when everything was divine. This Shadow miserably carries a burden on its insubstantial shoulders, wearing paradoxal reeking garments. With every step, leaving a desert behind, a weight in the soul grows. With every step an ancestral ferociousness grows. With every step the Shadow redefines itself, while a fire burns inside. Everything that was now just seems a remembrance and nevertheless parasite worms are still chewing the last remains of life. The Shadow gets rid of that putrid outfit, for too long this useless waste has been tolerated, for too long this desecration has been permitted. The Demon of the Earth discloses, standing forlorn and wrathful upon the ruins, the decay of æsthetics and the death of all philosophies.