how in this system do they refuse spices that just may incite ideas of lust? spiritualists on the apex of practice. the refusal in itself out of fear of sexuality. others go the other end and bathe in as much as they can, only to drown, lost, oblivious in the oblivion.
where are the fearless? the true rebels? the real revolution is not where the soldiers go and polish their guns, or where men stand behind the pulpit preaching their harvest of "good" ideas. where are the faceless, naked and tall? barefoot walking against the concrete, the sand, the linoleum floor. feeling every crease and grain and sensation left to be felt. roughly scaling the tiny mountains at the foot of the real mountain. only skimming the surface. only washing our hands. only bathing in movie rain while everybody walks past in slow motion. well, cry as you please. scream. fall down on your knees with your head bent, palms facing upward. a surrender focused on cinematography and drama.
the fight is no fight. its the battle lost and won. moving pictures on a wall from a projector. the dancing of light.
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