ANIMALS, SILENT CALLS, MESSAGES, NOTHING:
A man paints his face blue, transforms into someone else before
entering the room in time to witness supple women arch their backs in
black. Blacker than the tea that refuses to infuse the water in
this cup, blacker than the mood of international jet setters deprived
of porridge & sleep. Nothing is hot enough.
Voices fall out of the sky, friends taunt friends, a friend walks off
into the night abandoning his friends. Every vehicle that arrives has
blacked-out windows, pulls up curb-side disgorging hang-doggers
dressed head-to-toe in washed-out black, heavy ruck-sacs slung across
shoulders. What’s so bad, so familiar that it evokes such disdain?
We could all be home on the social, laugh, where’s the celebration?