Orb
Blue Room

Man is not meant to follow only base instincts and materiality. I strive to remember the last time I ended a day without thinking of others. Not even our bed takes care of us. Likewise, the pillow.

I rummage nervously under the layers of insulation, stiffened in the mind. My family members are increasingly distant, and I cannot bear the idea of depending on someone. Sometimes it confers a melancholic warmth, but the greater percentage of me prefers not to fly in too many heads. One breathes that flaccid heaviness of "anti-disillusionment actions towards others."

I hope not to disappoint at least my window.

Yes, the grid with the curtains that you move every time something disrupts the four Platonic elements of the cosmos. I am air when I observe, fire when I meditate, earth if I flee, and I wouldn't be water without my fears.

The romantic persistence of a Wordsworth or a Shelley makes me grasp the true essence of a head. To direct myself on a prophetic didactic doctrine, entirely homophobic and without lawyers. I fear anti-Enlightenment circularity. Everything that could infect.

Ah, how much heroism in the sylphs, stuck in Belinda's hair. The sinking into an airy entity without painkillers should bring enough joy.

"Blue Room" equates to the titanic politics of Sydney. Superior to the here and now, the contemporary, the contingent. It rises to the sky like Hero and Leander. There is no brutality. Coloring the absence of the world's negative in these minutes. A band that declares itself an artist vate of the time.

Transmit eternal beauty with a solid and perishable element. A record that creeps along the usual fence.