To live without reason, to dance without grounds or even a ground to stand upon. Free of frost-rhymes, negro-rhythm, lamenting verses and the snorting sense of the beast. That is my reality and you know colours are my living blood. Happenstance was the trap and the case obviously not. The gods took him and left me drinking all his inherited silver. Neither ticking cause nor resounding effect. Without cursed birth or blessed end. This is the pagan world of Nero, because the manifest was always present and may therefore not be lost. I am light that is uncreated, wandering dangerously over the waters. Cutting through the mountains, thrown back by all emptiness. The colours we see and the immorality we experience is both very stimulating. Colours are always immoral. Like a colour I cannot hide. Feeling colors. Colours that see. I show you all colours. What you see is what I lack. Lift towards me my wand. Until the firmament is toppled and time turn I will dance this dance. Spinning for us a whirl of veils that crackles in sparks and with stars.