Within this schemata, the pursuit of personal comfort and happiness are unknown, and thus so too is crime and evil. It could be said that the bleak world of the bogdwellers is an eden, a paradise, a return to man's nature state before the fall, but this would fail to portray the infinite darkness that permeates the brooding silences of their world. In fact the bogdwellers, resemble nothing so much as a people waiting for the apocalypse to be visited upon them, left mute in the face of its exorable descent

Following on from these observations, it becomes impossible to say whether these men with their blocks are those who have attained that knowledge which can not be communicated and found it dark, or those who have rejected it and are condemned to carry its vehicle as their penance. But perhaps it does not matter: free of linear thoughts and actions, of the wheel of cause and effect, the bogdwellers are masters of time, and thus it does not matter whether the apocalypse is before them or behind them in the past or in the future

Rather, like the gain and loss of momentous knowledge, the realization of great desire or the loss of all hope, they bear the weight of the apocalypse in each moment they are alive; each rock they move, each lard block they carry, simultaneously causes an adverts the coming catastrophe that is now past