Trust equals love. Since there is no trust, love does not exist. Is it really so? Now I’m a bit scared. We live in a fascist world, you better believe it. How disgusting is that. At this point I lose my strength and fall down. I can’t believe it. I have thought love is life, living, believing, exactly believing, having faith. What if everything you believed in failed you?
But it is impossible to live without trust. To be able to trust that the food I eat is safe. So, far I have survived.
So, are you saying that the laws for example to maintain the quality of food are made out of love? Community is to protect. Protecting is love. Simply put and said. So, I have rights as a citizen of Finland and EU and as a human being not to live like a hunted animal. A hunted animal, very funny. What if people had a collective weeping. No! But I thought it would give us some relief in these times of sadness and debt. It would be a sight everybody weeping on the street, sharing their grief, to let sadness out, lovelessness, hurt, pain, shame, hate, anger, all negativity. Do you think it would end up in laughter? Yes. Crying is pretty ridiculous. You are such an idealist. That’s why you’ll end up against the wall and be shot.
You hear insects all the time everywhere. You are scared of insects. They are violent in their multitude. Their amount is unexpectable, unknown small horror that creeps. Their force is their poison and need to go under your skin. To eat you 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, tsinasil signifies the sounds of whipping of Jesus. Wonderous voices made with instruments invented. Giselle is losing her mind. Think that sound.