the inherent beauty of the mob is in the fluidity of their anger it is the colors of burning buildings the music of guttural chants the freedom granted by inevitable destruction and the finality of their judgment it is in the perfection of collective enmity and the clamant rectification of flaws perceived so that in the end all that remains is the disarrayed corpse of the mob and the excrement of itβs existence not as a force of humanity but as a mechanism of wanton ferality