At the first day there was Sun.
At the second - there was Cloud.
At the third day - gentle Drum.
At the fourth day there was nun.
Then came the crowds
and at the fifth day there was none.
Our society will be truly open and democratic when a bunch of people with certain 'disabilities' will have a possibility to get (the heck) away from Institute in which they reside in the sake of their 'relatives' comfort and come to celebrate with a random little girl at her Birthday.
But yet all we could do is make and watch our own movie with our own stories to explain to the indifference of social media certain points which need to be explained if we want to have certain 'credit' in one of billion eyes of Its Honorability the Fund and Its Highest Lachrymatority the Market.
Still this piece is not without 'prejudice' if i may say so, as well as every piece of art made by those who can't experience the way of life of those who's been casted away as a patients, orphans, geniuses and lunatics - casted away to play a role (in the representation and performance) of pride, burden, guilt and eternal remindment to our 'wishful sinful' Society.
And all have to start over again:
At the first day - Same Old Sun.
At the second - playful Ground.
At the third day there was nun.
Then came a priest with smoking gun
bringing white candle, golden shrouds.
And at the fourth day there was none.
Review of The Eighth Day
