De Facto
Légende du scorpion à quatre queues

This is the review by Zigu so we avoid many paranoias... well done Zigu!

Since the hard part is done, let's start dancing, otherwise we waste energy uselessly, don't you think?

You enter the local of a friend who tells you it's just opened, you cross the threshold and find crimson red sofas, theater curtains, and warm strobe lights suddenly insinuating between dark and luminous spaces, while sinuous dancing images take over, magnetizing and enchanting… welcome to a new black lodge, but this time Lynch isn’t involved; this is the "Fellinian Vault" of the fleshated trio and here nothing acquires the right perspective.

You’re in the grip of imaginative diffractions that empty the soul amid stellar discomforts to fill it among fires smelling of incense, fiery, lysergic, and Mediterranean, while the four-tailed scorpion's poison has now more than ever made its way into your neurons.

A poison that intoxicates and destabilizes your mind projected into unexplored places, I wouldn't even know how to describe them... it seems there is a masked party on a trippy spaceship with the earth as a showcase, while Captain Kirk dressed in tails pours yet another bottle of Campari to Salma Hayek, we're in the grip of distortions, the images move asynchronously… slow, soft, narcotized… a blasphemous voice whispers esoteric words in your ear… over there Casadei is dancing half-naked and believes he is surrounded by women, it's all a dream, but in your friend's local you've really entered...