The Show Must Go On

Standing still in the middle of a crowded room, amidst bodies gyrating, pumping, sweating to the endless thump of whatever techno-progressive music the DJ is spinning, I inhale cigarette smoke and feign interest; expecting no comfort, finding no solace.

People are standing round; looking beautiful, looking for beauty. Everybody wants somebody, even when they don’t really need anybody. Looking cool or looking hot because lukewarm is just never enough. Insecurity feeds on our vanity, constantly looking for approval, acknowledgement, love.

I look around and feel empty. Whatever am I doing here? Whatever contentment or peace of mind I’m looking for are not likely to be contained in the crotch of the ultra-scanty and practically see-through g-strings of undulating go-go dancers or another tall glass of Kir. Or are they?

“On and on; does anybody know what we are living for?”

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