Such a strange little apocalypse-- it unfolds a little like a poem, resisting understanding in a Lovecraftian way, bits of narrative resurfacing for a few pages at a time and submerging again. It's maybe not peculiar at all to see something like this come from the same mind as "Billy's Balloon". There's something absurd and haunting about it. I like it. It makes my brain feel a bit less alone, but then, all of Hertzfeldt's weird and dark and disjoint has that effect on me.