Standing sardine man among thousands of similar attempts to sneak in a bubble of fresh air that compressed between incense and body odor, moves suspended over the heads of a multitude of pilgrims.
Only this man sees sardine: heads.
arms, hands, legs, mouths, words, nothing is left, only necks or faces, depending on the direction in which watching herd flow. Head forward, all agree on the place from which should come the realization of the deepest desires and appreciated. Link to a huge lens red door, which seems to move in hypnosis marked pitch, get larger, more hungry.
the first door, the man discovers sardine two other gates, beyond which new rules, those of the soul, wait heads, while rabbits of pink paper enjoy the show, thinking they were just born, but already smarter than that continuous flow.
man springs around the river sardine, stands of old tastes and tinkling objects close ranks, boiled chestnuts in abundance and fish. Raw fish, even in the sugar-covered biscuits, fried fish, dried fish, frosted, eviscerated, boiled for hours until the smell of desire that is most important, to remind the witness that the end that awaits them is common and then it's better to eat, in small controlled steps, continue, until the drum becomes unbearable, the space does not exist, the toss of a coin to ask what nobody has to know, a violent gesture liberating and that you will not forget.
The human hand is there, like that of the other was suspended in the air to overcome the currency groped to the crowd before him and finish the big rack that engulfs everything neatly.
Then the crowd pushes the man out of the sardine temple, three hours were consumed and sardine man you just have a cookie nibbled by fish meal, with a glaze of brown algae. He wanted it to be chocolate, but can not complain. His greatest desire is another, one might expect. Incense gets lost, their heads are not so agree on where to go, want to go out, want to escape, they want fresh air, fresh air here for today will suffice.
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