You could not calm down your silly laugh. So much so that warm tears are beginning to flood your creased eyes. Carried away by laughter your stomach muscles bump at every giggle. With your cheekbones like stones you start to suffocate by lack of breath. Loosing your balance you try to lean on something and manage to rest your arm on what you think is a wall.
But instead of a wall it is a hanging hiding a wide basement opening and you fall down onto the hard floor of a lower room.

Then, looking up, you are stunned : you are in front of some kind of busy dance floor. Or maybe more like a dancing cortege. That's it, a wild cortege with shaggy creatures, all made up and fitted in silly fancy dress... A carnival of lunatics.

Strangely enough the music that paces it drives your muscles into a frenetic chain of movements, like a good old disco tune.

Nonsense is obviously taking control of what is going on inside you. And it is with no further surprise that you spot hairs growing all over your legs... not human legs : goat legs ... of course.

From the crowd a voice hails :

" Silenus ! Join us. "

Howling and sweating, twisted with grotesque movements you then get into the march.

In the ecstasy you forget about your "ego" ; out of yourself into the dance and the music, jumping up and down, you experience now your merging into life. Wild with effort and joy, you are one with the din, drum beats and trumpet shouts.
You do not watch the world's show before you. You are the show ; you dissolve in this world and give it eyes to watch you.

There is no longer a thinking subject acting on his ground, the world – his object. Now what comes across by chance in a streak of lunacy hitting the diabolical mechanism of our domination over nature, it is the fusion of the innocent subject and the world ; this world that you are not sentenced to know anymore, but to be.

Any externality has disappeared : exhilarated, you think you are the noise hammering your head, you are the suffocated atmosphere of the crowd through the sticky cord of sweat.

Suddenly you come round and look. You are laughing.

And you are right to laugh. Because life is too absurd you need the distance provided by laughter to get back into it without remorse.

Not that it makes things insipid. On the contrary it makes them sharper for it reveals impostures and gives lies away. It surrounds us with caricatures.

The world is condemned to stagnation : "unfair" you reckon. It is now its time to explode in the feasting chaos of a delirious mob.

It is a feast indeed, a merry orgy. It overthrows all obstacles. It dissolves and solves everything.
This time it allows all subversions and protests.

Is there nothing you can do about the unfair and voracious capitalism that sucks all humanity and true compassion out of mankind ?

Well here it is, in front of you, in gross features that make you laugh.
You also laugh at yourself because you are not serious, are you ? Personifying the predatory liberalism that oppresses workers and causes war into a gruesome carnivore; doesn't it beat any terse analysis ?

In every human being matures a complex psychological history. The roots of behaviours are to be found in the more or less rotten state of everyone's brain guts rather than in the cold-blooded planning for personal gain... Whereas the instinct of a profiteer lies inside everybody the same way. And these factors can never agree, whatever social sciences say...

Nearly with regrets you leave the feast and its obscene twist. Further away, the misty light of a tavern soaks the paving with large yellow patches. You get closer. Through the window you discern a sad chap slumped on the bar.

By the look of it, he also comes from the march. You have the feeling that you have seen him before... But of course ! It is Mike, the "nice organiser" of the pasteboard fantasia !

Nonetheless, usually a cheerful fellow, gloom still has achieved to plunge him into a grief that only alcohol could alleviate.