We started doing tug of war for the banana, and, eventually, the monkey yanked it out of my hands, making me fall down on my back on the ground.
Ultimately, urbex remains a kind of cipher—occasionally, it catches media attention, and is grouped with other subcultures, like parkour, or even steampunk (Dawdy 2010), that are somehow remixing or renegotiating ways to relate to space, and how particular spaces are envisioned to exist within time.
I am not satisfied by the death of God announced by Nietzsche, who was too unguardedly in love in with power and hierarchy and struggle, nor even with the beautiful mystical death of God in apophatic, which is trying to affirm the still higher being of a hypereminent hyperousios.
At any rate, the first Trekfic I posted was non-slash, and I'm pretty much rampantly bifictional in my reading, although I don't like most het (probably because I don't have good enough filters in place to eliminate the bad stuff).
