Manifesto of a Defeated Poet

In the midst of fascist-capitalist madness, the Foreigner (a poet/dancer with sun on his palms and blood from his dreams on his face) hovers in neon twilight with last whispers of sanity on his lips, guarding and protecting the world – forever. ‘Full of mystery and beauty, punctuated by strange eruptions of silent cinema, of Chaplin, of film history made personal … not the film of a dance but a dance itself around pure presence … something unique and precious.’ (Maximilian Le Cain, lecain.blogspot.com.es/2015/11/a-few-reflections-on-manifesto-of.html).