Gola

He doesn't stop, he doesn't stop. He wants to savour everything. And he jumps, superficially, over things. "Don't be selfish. What a shame. Cover your mouth, your teeth are showing." He became small, small... and now he is an expert in pleasing everyone. Taking advantage of his benefits, of course. A skilled harlequin. Look at him, he jumps from here to there avoiding, in this way, to stop for a moment and observe everything around him. He is happy in fantasy. He dances because he no longer remembers who he is. Nobody remembers him. Now he only makes an effort to be looked at. He can do no more. He doesn't stop, he doesn't stop. To be seen, even if it is by offering a poor image, frees him from the torturing tyranny of insignificance.