“The condition cannot be described. I’m in blood over the ankles, I’m awash in blood. In fact – That’s the whole of the matter. There is blood flowing from all the walls, and it runs together on the street, in the gutter, or it just floods along the sidewalk. Sometimes it reaches to my knees. I know very well what this is. The light is turned off. I am in total, coal black cellar-darkness, imprisoned in the colour black. It is a known phenomenon. I know both the popular and the technical name for it – a man of my experience and my reading! But it doesn’t help much, other than to give me the precise possibility to say that this is a sickness – I have sickness-awareness; I can give it a name. It’s one thing to live in a world where blood flows from the windowsills, from the mountains and from the clouds – but it is another thing to put a little Latin name to it. In a world of pure pain, where all exterior impressions are like being touched at a point on your body where the skin has been flayed off. It’s a state of complete pitch-black dark and pain – where you are held prisoner under a dome which doesn’t allow you to perceive any other living being in the world than yourself. There is nothing outside of me – which is Hell.”
Jens Bjørneboe, History of Bestiality.