What inspires me only makes sense to my own understanding. I hope to reach the other and create a whirlwind of sensations, a silent fusion that cannot be spoken, only acted and danced. I often receive in return only hearts polished on the surface of a touch screen that distances me from the living. And, if my inaction is to be believed, this is good enough for me. I am content with it, or I make do with it.
My pranks and antics are more corrosive and have an effect on the gallery. Clowns have understood that to survive, they have to show their difference by distorting it. But the grotesque is back in power, and humanity seems ready to witness a new cataclysm. We no longer know how to laugh or cry ; we become puritanical again, to the point of dismantling statues and memories, those that should remain there to remind us of the universal order.
It is a dramatic laugh manipulated by drunken archetypes. Since we would have invented everything, we have to start again. The dramas have been written so much that our imaginary ones seem to survive only by the game of the repetitions or the rebuff. We love and hate each other, this is not new, but it does not move anything anymore. What is this fly that has bitten us and put us to sleep ?
I, too, have this reflex when I leave work of not wanting to embarrass myself with my reasons for living. However, if there is one thing that still bewitches me, it is the nothingness of my questions. If I still dream of massaging a body by making it guess my interest for the soul that is woven in it, I often play the clown, defeated by my cowardice, hoping, like a drunken man, that the alcohol in my blood will never evaporate.
If beyond our heads flow the winds of magic consciousness, I dare to believe that my boat will end up splitting the waves. If everything is only noises and coincidences, I continue to salivate in front of the dancers who strut their beauty and grace.
These are indeed many hypotheses loosely built around personal panentheism. But how can we do otherwise ? Isn’t this the only bulwark against madness ?