A contract to stop meeting people. A forced solitude. A necessity to cut off. Why does this
disease, strike something which is so human?
Pretense is a difficult word to justify. The negative connotation is hard to resist. The underlying ignoniminy of the ulterior is too strong a stain.
A staged protest. An act to argue. A spectacle of a meeting. A collective tea. An occasion to laugh, a genre of laughing.
Brains need to condition to behave normally.
Normality is a conditioning, made out of stories, recurrent.
A nature of act, a role of pretense is as crucial as survival. Its necessary, as
necessary to dress up. As necessary to use plates. As necessary as a formal glass of wine.
Life is too short to not pretend. Your masks are not masks. They are skin. The gory muscle
need not be seen. Should not be seen.
To those institutions of pretense, may you open someday;
may the cacophony, the noise of the chatter, the cheer, the wail, the loud indecipherable noise, screach through your heads.
May the noise decend someday.
Pretense, is a beautiful word.
Ask the one who sells the road side snack.
Take away his act and he will die. Its not the money, its the act.
