I am still thinking about different women passing through my body. Dancing with the spirits. Many of them are coming from the past. Some of them are forgotten.

 She came first. I guess, She feels the strongest. She feels the One and Universal. And she suffers a lot.

Amy said, that looking at her is like looking at a moving portrait of suffering, like looking at the depths of sorrow handled by a body and the surprising and inevitable lightness that rises out of this path, like mist over black lake…

 I like the poetry of it.

 I look at She.

 She has a beautiful dress and she cannot move. She is angry and She feels guilty, that she got angry again. So she cries, and cries and cries till she gets tired. Then she sleeps. She rises up, sensing, sensing, sensing. There is no danger around, nothing that she has to protect herself from. But everything is ready to fight, what to do? She explodes in anger. This time She is more careful, She screams without screaming, She doesn’t want to hurt anybody, the anger directed against nobody, from inside out. Why does She feel so guilty then?

Anger, guilt, crying, collapsing, again and again, repeating the cycle… In the end it is just a game, isn’t it? Let’s play something else.

 She/or someone else, leaves her dress and dances her small, shy dance in the darkness.


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