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. At least fire leaves ash that might become soil. Flood leaves sediment, burying what matters most. The question isn’t whether we’re burning or drowning—it’s whether we know the difference.