Degauss
The beasts are at home in the crowd. They reach out, and werewolves take to the stage licking guitars and howling through condenser microphones. Has the world gone mad? There’s a moment in all this lunacy. Sifting through static and the air turns still.
One of the raving lunatics on stage slides towards the crowd, and like a pack of hyenas the crowd rushes the stage to ogle at the thrashing of a man gone wild with a guitar. You stand alone in what quickly becomes a cold street watching this mass going after the cheap heat.
Your camera becomes an X-ray able to cut through it all. The motion between the crowd and the performers on stage becomes a dance. Every school of thought and government has failed here.
Welcome to the jungle.
The beasts have outstretched their arms. It will be your home. There, crowded around the fire like huddled masses looking for warmth.
Stay. Forever.
Dead Pixel Film and Photo 