Nothing. Not pretty skies, not summertime. You don’t like anything at all; the world to you is a varnished painting, one that doesn’t necessitate you. Butterflies, landing on your frayed shirt—it’s easy for you to brush them away. You live like you’re sitting in a cinema, watching a film that everybody around you cannot stop raving about, and yet it’s been several years since you’ve decided that it’s shit. Then, all of a sudden, it’s like the film melts on the projector. The screen dilates, the audio distorts—it sounds like an invitation. That’s me! You straighten your spine, you clutch the armrests, whirling your head left and right, searching for an answer in the audience. And that’s when you realize that nobody is here with you. I see you, and I’m shaking too—I don’t know what happens next. All I can do is keep my twitching fingers from turning the lights on and pray that you hear something in the silence. You’re an actor, aren’t you? Popcorn, candy, soda, all the regrets you carry from never willing yourself to give things a try: let go now. Good, you’re galloping down the steps, you’re slithering up the stage, you’re learning how it feels to howl with your feet on the ground. Next comes the echo, and it’s a breeze: chilling but refreshing, right? Nobody’s watching you now. I want you to swim in the empty air, fill it with the long fibers that constitute your brain, pour yourself whole like a self-siphoning fluid. Paint the walls whatever colors you want—it’s not that serious anyway. I like seeing you happy. It spews out of you, and it doesn’t stop until the seats in Row Z are covered with your enthusiasm, until it spurts, and it spills, and it drips. Until your legs are tired, and the ground strikes you with greater force than ever before, and the cinema is full of people now, but you’ve already emptied yourself. It’s not your fault: you didn’t know you had a performance so soon. My bad, that’s my bad! … But as I watch you from the projection booth, I get a little scared. I don’t want to come down and help you up. I think it’s better this way. I think I’ll just find a new roll of film, and you can sit up and turn your face to the screen, and everybody can watch the new movie and ignore the mess I made of you.