At the time of the equinoctial tides, certain ciliate creatures retreat too far across the sand, flee too far inland. When the sea calms down, they are unable to reach it again: they die in exile, trying to return to the increasingly distant water, to travel in reverse the path that an irresistible impulse, inscribed in them since birth, forced them to follow by imbuing them with its energy.
Those animals - or the genetic knowledge that runs through them, their harmony with the gravitational forces that control the tides - pay for their excess with their lives. Hypertelic creatures: they have pressed beyond their goals, as if from the very beginning, and to a disproportionate degree, encoded in their nature they had a lethal impulse for supplement, simulacrum and pageantry - since the same futile display can be found in the mimetic ornamentation developed by various species of butterflies.
In the Japanese film Kwaidan a web of mantras is written on the skin of a monk in order to save him from the nightly summons of evil spirits. But in their haste, the calligraphers, who work their way up from the feet as they cover his coveted body inch by inch, forget an ear. The demons stand over him and pull on that ear until they rip off the piece of unwritten skin.
Everything that is not textual is castratable.
(I fainted in the theater.)