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A place where masks fall.

A place where you will see yourself stripped of all artifice. That of the power that has so far kneaded and buried you. That of the daily theatrical game, that of lies.

A place where all identities, repressed, atrophied, will find the fervor to reveal themselves.

A place where it's all about you, me, and the coalition of our respective chimeras.


And if the sentence must be equivalent to the offense, then abandonment will result in absolution, because here, the Law, it is face to face with me.

"So is this the land of all the pots of color here?" - I said.
The face and the limbs painted in fifty ways: it is thus to my great astonishment I saw you seated, you present-day men!
And with fifty mirrors around you, fifty mirrors that flattered and mimicked your color scheme!
Truly, you couldn't wear a better mask than your own face, today's men! Who would know how to recognize you?
Smeared with signs of the past covered by new signs: how well you are hidden from all interpreters!
And if one knew how to look into the bowels, who would then believe that you have bowels? You seem to be kneaded with colors and pieces of paper stuck together.
All times and all peoples glance pell-mell through your sails; all the customs and all the beliefs speak pell-mell through your attitudes.
Whoever takes away your sails, your overloads, your colors and your attitudes will only have in front of him something to frighten the birds.

Truly, I myself am a frightened bird who once saw you naked and colorless; and I ran away when this skeleton made gestures of love to me. "


Friedrich Nietzsche

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