Performance: Orpheus

It was beautiful and scary. For a second you began to seem to me like a disaster, and beautiful, like a rainbow. You were the cry of a man falling from the window, and the silence of the stars. You scared me. I find it hard to you to admit it. If you don't want to talk, silent, but know that our relationship cannot remain the same.

- Your profession?
- Poet.
- The card says "writer".
This is the same thing.
- There is no "almost". What do you mean by "poet"?
It means to write without being a writer.

A week ago you thought I'm a skeleton in a shroud and a scythe. You imagined a Scarecrow, a Scarecrow and... But, my poor boy, if I was such, what people want to see me, they would have seen me. And I have to come to them unnoticed.

What do we know? Says who?
We are fighting in the darkness, we sit in the supernatural to the neck. We play with the gods of hide and seek. We know nothing, nothing, nothing.

Mirrors are the doors through which comes and goes Death. Don't tell anyone about it. Death runs in the mirror, like a bee in a glass hive.

- If I could talk...
- It seems to me that the person that can not speak, you say a lot. A lot! Too much!

I do stupid things, but that's because I'm afraid to make a mistake.