It’s like Sherilyn Fenn in the crash car from Wild at Heart... You don’t know what you’re here, at night, in a middle of nowhere, trying to find your way or someone to help you.

Last night Ken joined a Bday party. Gay party, of course, like Mishima depicted in his amazing novel Kinjiki. Same kind of people, expats, locals, old hunters, young preys… Ken arrived before his friend. He was warmly welcomed by the guest ( Thank you Mike, and happy 53rd Bday). But as soon as he entered the room he felt he was in Hell. Like, in a middle of a road, at night, lost in conversations. So, he pretended his friend was waiting outside to run away.
When, finally, his friend came, they joined the party… But it was boring. Ken, as usual, was totally unable to communicate with others. No eye contacts, no smiles. Not a single word. Social Suicide. His heart shout out to escape the room. You know these fashionable games nowadays, you have 60 minutes to escape from the room full of tricks and puzzles you are locked in. Same here, but there’s no door in this world to open and run away.
In this life, there’s no way you can escape without bearing flowers of blood in your hands. How many times you have to die in public to legitimate your right to live in society ? How many miles you have to run before you reach your true self with no feeling of failure, fake or fanaticism, regardless of your choices or sensitivity.
C’est triste.


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