which is in fact, so easy to dance with words when you clearly don’t move a single muscle or not even a blink nor to get up and sit, but now in a different position, place, scene or movement still.

It is so goddamn easy to point your bloody finger to your neighbour silhouette and go up and down mocking his vests to the sweet sickly pleasure of your own twisted range of view that lingers and doesn’t go anywhere because it is extrinsic glued on your own flesh. Mercilessness and sigh. Opening a small path that conducts my measurements into somewhat sympathy … but it’s only on the surface, a ticket for the audience to dive deep into dismay. That can’t be much helped though


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