The organism is voracious. The desire to know, be, do, possess all of anything ends by devouring the self. Collector, artist, philosopher, all succumb. Even here as we strove for simplicity, vitality, harmony, neology, the image evolved toward its own vestige of a different primitive need. Perhaps Macbeth, Medea, Macheath represent similar autonomous projections of our least humane inclinations. Here then is the raptor, as chthonian relic of the non-self, revealing a faceless compulsion to devour the beautiful. We can only trust that the image will incarnate some secret facet of that same beauty.