Unsex Me

The air was thicker than usual.
It smelt of latex, gum, sweat and of hairspray. It smelt warm.
Death of Glitter.
We heard it.
It was as if the palpable energy inside seeped through the walls and resonated into the night.
The rush of trying to capture the essence of the evening felt impossible.
We went into the night knowing that we would be diarising a series of truthful experiences, but as we were pulling focus we soon realised that capturing the event would never replicate it.
There is nothing that will compare to experiencing Death of Glitter in your own present body.
The amount of freedom experienced that night was inevitably indescribable.
The amount of hope and expression.
The amount of sexual liberation.
If your entire intention is to reveal what is real right now for some of the youth in Cape Town, how do you do that truthfully?
What does it mean to only capture a few focussed expressions of one experience?
When are we just performing an interaction of what such an event could be?
The sound left in our ears is deafening.
A deafening voice of a performance liberation culture that is exploding in Cape Town, South-Africa.