I will never become like them. They that walk with corrugated gaze across the pale stage of the world, and pluck its strings. I will never serve them. Many do, and many die, for much blood is used to paint their skins. I will never join them, as so many have, faceless and lobotomized. Yet, in this twirling, I have. I will never, yet I have. And my blood paints their skins, and my skin is their skin. And my life is their breath. And I will never be alone again.
Wow so cool! Love it, the colors, the "swiftness" of the images. Fantastic!