08 Mar

         A group of people pose for pictures with light installation "CLOUD" in Singapore

Luckily the yawning is not contagious, that is just another superstition by the weak and lazy to suit their willfully disarmed immunity against such malefic, disturbing waves, fields. Not to mention the obviously pushed and screwed manner in which it is delivered, ostentatiously oppressed with difficulty, intended as a projection of an alluding message.

We are on the contrary interested and involved, caring and enthusiastically carrying on. Despite  and irrespective of the green car protruding posited across, the white red’s bus cutting short or even trucks, wagons with logs of lumber in the way. It is nice nevertheless when someone gets inspired into action, into breaking the chains of a sedentary, passive, listless, helpless, seeking help slothering or indulging in a lethargic routine of the everyday routine; or pathetically, sadistically lamenting, complaining of lack of attention from someone too busy with the struggles of survival and domination, most probably languidly, slyly, treacherously  wishing to prolong the condition of an infantile grown up feeling like a child wanting protection and support – an eternal dependent. Fortunately enough, strongly supported by the networked groups of alikes, the herds of parazyte hyenas, armed with technologies, would tear into pieces anyone trying to meddle with the morbid cause of the closed membership elitist society. The ones with pretense of enlightened superiority would attend virtually presentations, would join fitness clubs, would jump high on springs and desperately try to attract attention, to lure interest to their plain, destitute, person. Some of them would also endow themselves with a second or third layer of protection bear, and give birth to a child or two – their security for not being dumped so easily if wanted by the master of THAT petty game so as to change horse and enliven the deadly boring empire.

Feminist? ME, I AM a WOMAN!!!!

A true revival of true to their name women was recently imaginatively performed by the McQueen fashion house, no, for the hippie modern I would contest, that wasn’t a walking dead inspired winding of touched by video games industry females that have gloriously attained the upper level of the five stages video game. That was a revival of women from men’s misogynism and despise, walking out of a misty background of grooves and hills grotesquely reminiscent of a leveled by the time graveyard. A neo-gothic glimpse of some resurrected medieval brides, festively clad into outfits with soft, swift leaves and feathers prints on silk; skins, furs, velvet all in an exclusive black and ash-white to suit the morose parade.

A more jovial and hopping playfully presentation in an opposite part, the heel of the old continent, was staged by the sophisticated Italian fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld like in a retort, a reaction to the above mentioned catwalk show. The setting was again a surprising one: a descent in the  ordinary routine – an improvised commercial center. Was the artistic concept of the presentation to convey the message that the immersion into the commercial zone kills femininity? …At least a part of it, the essential remains fancily gapped, ragged,  stained, leathered, but fitting, enclosing the body in an explosion of colour pleasing to the eye. Our reverence! to the much esteemed master! for his powerful signal  very sensibly whispered to us – the humble audience, the greedy consumers. Hat off!

A third exhibition, a local one unfolded in a library! Another uncommon place for such a display. The unordinary setting was completed with a surprinzingly interesting concept reflected in the outfits. A readable collection, full of prints and transparent gowns transcending the laws of that environment, framing emphatically the youth wanting to come into evidence with a topping styled derby-bowler. A wanting intellectual excursion, an endeavor to quench the academic pursuits that resume in kindling  the sporting strip. Oh, among us the girls, to be said.

Sigh… all during the week of the Sochi Olympic second stage – the Paralympics. And a simultaneous, very crippled give in through purely “democratic means” of the Crimea – Caucasian Côte-d’Azur. In the most magnificent of the worlds ever existent…

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Posted by on March 8, 2014 in Uncategorized


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