surprise, sometimes

every yr. touch is like some kind of revolutionary praxis. kidnap the masses and drop them somewhere else. i mean nowhere near. because everybody is here to hear that. sensation of black death. a lot of interruptions. the leader is anonymous. just a principle in fact. some kind of function the others fit in. revolutions are collective projections of an individual mind. and your heart is just a sad guitar reverberating into the eternity.

::: the small space i occupy and which i see swallowed up in the infinite immensity of spaces of which i know nothing and which know nothing of me :::