I was there. Watching.
I was there listening to the ambience of crackling flames mixing with Nero's fiddle, which I had taught him to play.

In the time of the three sixes I was there smelling the freshly baked bread and turning up the heat.

When the tiniest stars of my wandering carnival escaped one third of the West became spotted.
And very dead.
And I was there.
Laughing.

I was the rebelling angel.
I am the unstoppable darkness.
The inevitable failure.
The cleansing by fire.
The anticipating death.

I am the Digital Satan.