In the country of change

everybody was crazy:

they looked at themselves in disposable mirrors

that broke after each use.

In the country of stability

they were very sensible:

instead of using a mirror they looked at their photo

on the identity card.


In the country of madness

everything was amazing

and children’s curiosity

became wise men’s humility.

In the country of good sense

everything was in order

and everyone’s file specified

who was whom and what they lived for.


In the country of the amazing

the same thing never happened twice

and nothing was ever the same

in different moments

and everybody had great fun.

In —ow!— the country of order

everything was ever so boring

and changing seasons

was outlining grey damp patches

on the faded jackets of mannequins

in the open.


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