Under the same sun
Beneath oceanic atmosphere
Her breath leaves her lungs
A few seconds pass before it enters his
He says, “The world is…”
“…broken” – she completes it
It is her breath after all
Her mind at work here in her space
He tells her science verifies
The cave painters were mostly women
They compare the length of their fingers
We know we are ruined
It’s an argument we don’t have to have
He says the problem is men
Too much testosterone
We’re destroying ourselves
Addicted to thought
Controlled by belief
Money moves us
This wears us down
Wrecks our thinking
We lose the capacity for empathy
And we are repulsed by our bodies
What are we doing?
What is the message?
“Artists are shamans,” she says.
On the wall – how it is to be human
Living and dying speeding through time
From the cave to the street
How it is to have bodies created by sex
Deep generative parts
Powered by atavistic emotions
We are creations of desire
Needing rescue
We say these things to each other
To make them real
“Artists are shamans.”
“This is why I contacted you.”
“I know.”
*
– text by Tullio DeSantis
Tullio DeSantis 
I’ll stop bombarding your page with comments now, but your work is inspiring to me. I am tearing up a bit at this one and a few others. Thanks for sharing all of it with the world.