And the eight day there was Silence.

Thirsty for Humanessence

Thirsty for Humanessence

We feel

The place

We like the walls

Making squares of magic fences

Barriers for our conscience

Imagining reality for what it is not

We cut the world in little circles to gulp the sense of our topology

Space has to have a purpose to be considered

We pass swiftly on our highways thinking of our cozy shed

Grey concrete, black pipes, cold circulation signs try to say hello

But nobody ever looks at them, they beg for a little hug, but nobody wants to embrace their edges.

Not even for a second do they earn the beauty contest

Not even for modesty

These are not spaces, they are the bowels of our modernity… we like the wrapper better than the candy, surfaces are our idols.

Witnesses of our madness, highways are roads on the absurdity of modern life

Paths we take fast to go nowhere… ah… I forgot:

Home

But why did we leave first?

To sell our joy and our time, to transform ourselves into a cog in the money-making machine… to produce more grey bowels of concrete and steel and macadam… to add more nonsense to the nonsense

Our world is swirling, struggling like a werewolf in the mud, we hiss like a snake in the fakir's box, we do not even see the gaps of the wicker basket; the fakir has left us on our own, disgusted.

Before leaving, the fakir asked the snake: What is the world? And the snake answered: Beauty. And then the fakir said: That is not the important question, but what do you do with it? And the snake fell silent…ssshh.

Our whole world has become a place of devastating ugliness… from the beginning we wanted to have it right… yet… blinded by the mechanics we made ourselves a gear… our world is upside down, we extracted the hell from the underground and now we live in it.

There is no beauty left anywhere…

Our bottle still hold a few drops

Of humanity juice,

We must find an Alchemist to multiply it…

If not.

And the eight day there was Silence.

…sssshhhh