Ozora holds its breath. Sitting on a metal tube, facing a dancefloor to be, I contemplate Delta waves activating my memories. They’re slowly reaching the outer-rim of my eyes — acid rain. The Ceremony is about to begin. Trancescribe reporting live from the dust.

 

 

7.45pm

Dusk is rising on the hill. Tribes of wolves are yelling on the ridge while down the valley women wearing organza-flame-dresses with sparkles in their eyes are spinning slow slow in a solid golden light.

 

 

7.54pm

Oh horse riders unleash our power, we, the people of a thousand shapes and shades. Let’s unite beyond totems and flags and genders — fluidity is the key to the land of the billion eyes. May they shine in the darkness to come. Darkness, that good old friend who never left your eyes.

Let there be light.

I need my dose my dope my hope my whole my everything every little thing my Mum and the bass told me not to forget — let’s not forget all together. Please. I love you.

 

 

 

8.00pm

‘Gyerünk’ says the Bell. It echoes beyond eyesight — beyond the 3^rd dimension.

 

8.20pm

People of Ozora reaching now the point of equilibrium — infra-balanced on a dance move, there, in the chamber of destiny, mine-yours-hers-his-their-ours.

 

 

8.21pm

Our time has come to erect bridges for an era to become.

8.22pm

Tears of joy are running down my neck.

 

 

8.35pm

In the Journey ahead, beware of fake-prophets-misleading-shamans-politicians-left-right-center. Center yourself all you deeply truly really need want desire lies beneath your feet. Remember.

 

9.00pm

One day our hair

will be grey

and we’ll shrink and bones and blood will be dry and all

and time for regret will be long gone.

What will remain question mark.

You tell me you who’ve seen it all, while the longest night had casted her spell on our specie vowed to self-sabotage. It was long ago. Wave after wave we all disappeared down into abysses of oblivion.

I’ve forgotten it all.

I hope you’ll forgive me.

 

 

 

9.25pm

Be proud.

Stay strong.

In your womb

lies the seeds of humanity.

 

 

9.30pm

Night,

Why so dark ?

David has to stiffen his grip on his light stick miskin’

Front row is

shivering

calling for Mum

calling for help

and here you are

shaking particles of darkness as if you were petting your bitch on a Sunday morning

and it’s getting worse

look

here is this girl

now crying trying to reach a laser beam with her bare hands

cant’s you bring back that sweet memory

of these moments when you were in love

question mark

 

 

9.56pm

Peace be on earth.

 

Words and thoughts gathered from Ozorian minds at the Ozora Stage, automatically assembled by vodoje, part of the Trancescribe Project, which aims to document trance states in the post-modern era.

T.O.P. – Exquisite corpse: A game in which each participant takes turns writing or drawing on a sheet of paper, folding it to conceal his or her contribution, and then passing it to the next player for a further contribution.