Sweating
Sweating is the whole concept of life; it is imprescriptible part of wellbeing, the one that stimulates us in understanding of what exactly happens around us. Imagine yourself in one of those well-familiar scenarios when you are in the middle of something that makes up your daily routine, and in a flash you realise that what made up your 24 hours of being is just not the same any more - the TV screen with your favourite series goes black, the fan trying to cool you off in vain slows its blades until they stop dead, your web life irritably disappears while fuelled by unreliable provider, the freezer lets you down with not yet made ice-like beer, you dash to the terrace only to remember that it’s still well above 40 and it’s a midday, you remembered that the other time you made it sure the music player has half-charged battery, and hastily you stick earphones where they belong while searching for what can inspire you and lift up your spirits. What happens next is your forced indulgence into realities of what have been around you becoming too vivid. The thoughts, images of people and places start crawling into your consciousness, including those you tried so hard to push aback. Yet, this is the only time when you are there to face them one to one, to acknowledge their existence and perhaps give it a try to go through their inventory. Hard it may seem, the sweating stimulated by gulps of warm beer and drags of cheap tobacco lay the path that later on you’ll be happy to forget as the one disclosing too many secrets you’re so anxious to bury as something banned by what other realities demand you of.