She loves those tiny crumbs of time when she can climb outside her thoughts and get lost into the acrobatics of another place. A place where the ordinary and the uncombinable can meet. A place where all sorts of people can fit. A third space.
Where lose playfulness can provoke and inspire. Where people can have a space to improve and not a little corner where they cannot move. A place where the fancy lady will dare to look at that filthy beggar in the eyes and drop her arrogance in the garbage for a while. And keep her coins inside her well- sewed pockets to explode like misery rockets.
And the golden war of arrogance and fear will flap the city streets with its angry wings, wounding all it could reach. Every petal of a flower, now flowers are plastic with no smell. And every pure beauty, untouched from dirt, now beauty is naked and nicked from regret. And every little imperfection that gave sense to the world ; the curvy, muddy pavements on which your sneakers would crush, the sweaty skaters whose tricks would make life go fast, the well- thought graffitis on the forgotten walls of an abandoned parking, the echo of the laughs and chats of teenagers in squares, the nasty fight of street- drinkers in fares.
And all you would see is billboards full of recipes for falling deeper in the trap, words of ignorance, orders for being more sad . The necessities of the modern man, crushed under the success towards which he once ran. Lipsticks, flat TVs and guns, where is your history, your consciousness and your rights ? You kind of lost them on the way, you say. So you gotta go back, find them and bring them to this generation in decay. They wait, they hope, they pray. There is nothing they can do but live their life in delay.
Do not avoid the rain they say, it is the only freedom given to us all without the obligation to pay. They can twist their minds inside the water flames and forget all about what society claims. They can cut their bounds with a sharp knife and set up the revolution of their everyday life.