It was an entrance of sorts, I suppose; although they had been waiting too long for a cue. They met twenty one years ago (and repeated it) but if Debord was right it was nothing more an encounter in spectacular time. 

No history; unremembered time.

Entering a pseudo-cyclical momentum willingly if not without trepidation. Taut anticipation of retrospection drives them onwards towards attempted knowing but without proper contemplation. They run forwards and as they do three are lifted off their feet and pushed suddenly to the floor. Stop – turn – crouch – grab – lift.
(PD; March 2011)

[(10 + 10) + (20 + 20) + (30 + 30)] x 4. Repeat. 

There is an unsteady balance here and in that encounter there is a collective in-breath that punctures the cacophony of noise engulfing it all. Someone weeps.

They run. Two drop. Stop – turn – crouch – grab – lift. Repeat.

Someone weeps.

Run. Drop. Stop. Lift. Repeat.

Repeat.

Stop.

P.D. March 2011