Flood the zone with shit: when everything overflows, nothing moves. Too much water drowns. Deluge makes no distinctions—truth and lies indistinguishable in a murky overflow. We mistake volume for depth, saturation for nourishment. You can’t drink a flood. You can’t plant. Fire leaves ash that might become soil, flood leaves sediment that buries what matters. The question isn’t whether we’re burning or drowning—it’s whether we can tell the difference.