con-troll.

[spiderpig]

They descend, like thick snake-heads, in parallel lines, twisting around each other. They descend, like moonbeams on a still night, or like starlight that has been forsaken by their heavenly placements. They descend, flying downwards, to an unmistakable end of uncertainty. The moment is captured forever, but everything else after or before that, is lost.





They are positively writhing. From what I don't know? As the camera tries to capture something as inanimate, as lifeless as light, it seems to burst into full-fledged action, like a flurry of jeet-kun-do from a movie, or like the smell of fresh baked goods when you open the oven. Who is to say then, that light cannot move? Cannot move, a body, a soul, a society, into an irrevocable state of just watching -- we watch rainbows as they mysteriously form over light hitting moisture, we watch our reflections with vanity - light hitting the vehicle of glass.



Light here, is raw. It is without a container, without restraint. It serves no practical purpose except to just exist before it fades away. It separates and divides, (light or dark?), it breaks free of -- look, there is the light, pushing forwards against the nether - and being extinguished.


Like an animal, it stampedes across the lens. Mere seconds cannot hold the energy that it posseses. Each strand is like a hovercraft, zipping past in veritable lightspeed and then out of sight and out of what it used to be. They are like malt candy strings, as we bend and twist them to our fancy, and dribbled into our awaiting tongues - outstretched like a humanoid lizard.


We are like snakes seeeeking saccharine sweetness that only something like this (in its whole intangibility) can provide.


Because, we are merely humans and grounded on earth and soil. And it, they are light - free to roam wherever, to blaze across our narrow unfocused vision.