All incoming bits of information have, simultaneously, a tentacular, optic, and sexual dimension. Its world is not doubtful, but surprising; vampyroteuthic thinking is an unbroken stream of Aristotelian shock.

Me," Artemis blurted. "I'm the nut."
Artemis could have sworn the squid winked at him before bringing the five-ton chunk of spacecraft swinging down toward the morsel of meat in its blue shell.
"I'm the nut!" Artemis shouted again, a little hysterically, it must be said.

Kidnapped by a vampire, death by a squid. How tragic.

The task of a philosophy of photography is to reflect upon this possibility of freedom - and thus its significance - in a world dominated by apparatuses; to reflect upon the way in which, despite everything, it is possible for human beings to give significance to their lives in the face of the chance necessity of death. Such a philosophy is necessary because it is the only form of revolution left open to us.

Isn't that an odd philosophy for a vampire?

If you know something is an illusion, why pretend it is reality?