When there’s a tin can lying on the ground near a dog, it’s not the dog attacking you—it’s the tin can controlling the dog. The dog itself—roasting its skin off, is being burned in a campfire because of the can. The can itself is the object of suspicion—the one thing in any landscape or scene that is secretly fake and is placed as a clue to those who may then discover the entire landscape or scene is fake. The only way to escape is to destroy what the one fake thing is controlling. The fake thing will disappear, but then you have to go away too—to a new place where everything is fake until you notice the one thing that is real.
The Anatomy of Melancholy