death club

The distant forest hummed, the air was full of divinities that extended their transparent lips toward the snails of our ears, whispering their hoarse and guttural commands in an unknown language. They were everywhere, they implored, moaned, and shouted, they spoke to us intensely, intensely like being punched, but we didn’t have the matching sensory organs. We would have needed the delicate plumage of a moth’s face, the forked tongue of ophidians, the lateral line of fish, the organ with which spiders understand everything that happens in the world, that is, their glittering webs. The malign or beneficent creatures were everywhere around us, they observed us and guided our movements and meandering thoughts, they desperately tried to contact us, but our skin did not see them and our retinas did not hear.

It's like we're all going up a flight of stairs together and at a certain point I say 'this is as far as I go'. And on that step, higher up, they're all happy and I watch them from below. Had he always been like that? It wasn't shyness or reserve or adolescence, as other people thought. He wasn't going to get over it. He could dance when he was alone, he could get emotional in his room with a book, but when the party started he disconnected, the others turned into a movie that he could watch but not participate in.