Is it not strange to feel something so strongly that it consumes everything from your drunkenness to your dreams. I wake up from a bad dream to see you aren’t there… I fell asleep feeling that you aren’t there…
He sits somewhere, I don’t know where… but under him there is hell fire. He speaks of it as if it is eternal and pure. He speaks of it as if it is his destiny and his love. I don’t agree with this fire, this eternal damnation. I have to go away, but there was someone else too, I don’t remember who… someone of consequence to me, I feel… suspicion, have I been lied to? I think of the character from the play, that I played with my voice earlier today. I think I sound like him right now. It is alright though, I tell myself. I tell myself? How does this narration suddenly find itself here? Perhaps the fiction wishes to claim what it recognizes as its own? Perhaps the person wants to narrate a story, and tell you that it’s not my story?
I leave the place though. I go away and I want to scream. So I scream. Suza? I told you I will find a place for us to scream. I think it’s right here. Leaving behind the hell fire… maybe not before having burnt our suspicions… Scream…
Never undermine a good scream.
Can you hear me? Are you somewhere near me?
Story Of The Footloose 
how could i not hear you my ears are bursting dont you see that your screaming has veiled the world into a total darkness and that now i see your scream flying up into the skies like a shooting star upside down my own screaming now will be is was a mise en abyme of yours thank you for letting me in…
it has always been a pleasure…