Fear to express, when do you become afraid to express? What there is to express? When do we know, what should be expressed?
A bruise in a shape of Africa. Those who do not understand, they may say it out loud and look at you. Things that can’t be told her, are not told her. They are kept from her, totally weird and not at all, but totally something. Silent and distant, untouchable gap, it is a shame, it is a religion.
Men who talk to women as if they were dogs, like dogs, like dogs talk, that they were dogs. What is there to talk to a dog other than they just look as if you know the answer. You don’t want to talk to women like they were equals, because you don’t want an answer. You can’t handle the answer.
You hear insects all the time everywhere. You are scared of insects. They are violent in their multitude. Their amount is unexpected and unknown small horror that creeps. Their force is their poison and need to go under your skin, to eat you and to consume you and move on to the next body. Africa is scary. It is enormous and endless and dark. Endless in its blackness, noise, violence, liveliness and uniqueness, but we like to see it as one block, because we must understand within our rational frame all, even the things which don’t fit the frame in any way. We need to force all into our frame to comprehend and control and use. All that we can’t control, what can we do with it?
Ethnic sounds, drums, stomping, whipping, singing. Animal sounds, roaring. Human sounds, shooting. Nature’s sounds, the wind, eruptions, the grass, the rain. Cacophony distilled normal, a harmony, a naming. Making order, giving advice, giving comprehension and guidance, harmony like for a choir with a conductor. Do not make a mistake: you will be punished. Who are the people who punish? Who are the people who are punished?
Coffee cantata, tsinazil signifies the whipping of Jesus. Wondrous voices made with instruments invented.