Sitting in a box. No ground floor. No roof. Box have many door ways. It's a labyrinth. Walking and cowling with inhibitions. Restless, disgraceful elements. Low in oxygen supply. Intoxicated with left-overs, abused with truth. Honesty. Prosecution. Face to face with itself. Hanging on shelf's, filled with old newspapers. Cut-outs of the modernity. We have it here, a long term disses of society. A perception of what everything and everyone should be like. "Should" is one ow thous words used to soften "MUST" - "Have TO". - You "should" never ... Yes, this what days are about. What should and should not. Elementary schools leveled intelligence. Ambiguous lettering system, irritated skin molecules. Everyone is wining in the end. "Applause" sing lights up in the middle of nowhere. And the clapping sound of the majority begins...
The table is here, why so? Remembered. Last time I have putted it on the bed, while he sat with me on the floor. There was always someone else in side of you was it? (rhetorical question). Here is never enough time for anything. Never enough cigarettes, never enough jokes, never enough oxygen.
This time table had 3 legs and one hole witch indeed is endless. Eight eyes, eight legs, one head no conciseness, low level in entertainment. - Are you partying?
- No, I really need to work on this.
- Ok, it's OK. Oh well...
Now he know, now they all know, as I don't join the happy artistic time spread. Interests are full of it's best achievements. So, how is the new mechanism? Does it work properly, is it legal, who is in charge?
Now, it's time to put everything in to artistic goal. For it's purity and the mighty mixed messages. So, I put left hand on the brush. Feel how smooth it is. Glossy. I pick it up, holding it tight that it would not escape while writing. Leaving this ink to dry.