The Eeriness Of England

How can I just leave food out? This place is sterile and cursed

I’m in England for a week, cleaning toilets and emptying biohazard fridges (for my wife). Last night I left some bread out on the counter and this morning it’s fine. They’re something deeply Shaytanic here and I don’t like it. England creeps me out because it has all the signs of life, but it’s invisibly dead.

England used to be a rainforest once (certainly enough rain) and rainforests have bugs. Bugs are God’s itchy hugs, they and bacteria are God’s clean-up crew, constantly drawing life back into the web of other life, by chewing. What we consider Bad Bs are, in fact, our deepest connection to other life which is not truly ‘other’ at all. We come from nowhere and we return to it and that ‘nowhere’ is in fact everywhere and everything, ie God, or ‘the universe’ if you want to be vulgar about it. In modernity we burn, tame, and spray these Bad Bs into submission, but in death they embrace us and return us to where we came from. To Allah, who made us out of water, earth, and a drop of semen. They are, in fact, Allah’s angels. This is supposed to happen to bread also. But in England, it doesn’t. All of England’s angels have left them. Hell, you can leave sugar on the counter and nothing happens. This place is sterile and cursed.