Synopsis of the piece:

Faced with an increasingly demanding social mirror, the only possible strategy seems to be to shine even brighter each night. The price of such consumption is the same as that paid by moths for flying near a flame: the possibility of spontaneous burnout.

English translation of the spoken text:

You wake up frightened, searching for those black band-aids that never let you sleep because you can never find them.

The glistening cream you put on the shadows beneath your eyes.

Ten years younger.

The "squeeze-yourself-into-it-no-matter-what" trousers stare at you from the wardrobe.

The cracked nipple oozes, and a howl of pain remains suspended halfway between the she-wolf you no longer remember and the full-time mother.

Perhaps that is what swells your breasts and your belly.

A belly that aches.

A borrowed belly.

There are no black band-aids, gentlemen,

no make-up that can cover this shame.

Look for a lifting treatment.

Lift-on.

Laser.

Botox.

Hyaluronic acid.

Pay.

You pay.

Paid.

Fucked.

Spots.

Cellulite.

Stretch marks.

Wrinkles.

Scars.

Hide them.

Don't let them show.

That's what it's for.

To become someone else.

Someone whose marks don't show.

Someone who shines.

Shine on.

 Shiny

“Shine.

Shine on.

Shiny” [Repeat x times….]

Tough? You're not enough.

Active or passive.

Measure up.

Dyke.

Two women is just a fetish.

Wax yourself.

Wake up.

Don't talk like that.

Don't be a bitch 

Hair lotion three times a day.

A holiday in Turkey.

A glorious head of hair.

Go to the gym, shadows beneath your eyes.

Professionalise yourself.

Protect her.

As if you had any idea.

Not enough muscle mass to fuck someone against a wall.

Fill the fridge.

Don't let them notice your middle-aged belly.

Don't drink so much beer.

All you ever say is nonsense.

With those muscles, blood doesn't even reach your head.

Size doesn't matter...

Hide it.

Don't let it droop.

That's what it's for.

To become someone else.

Someone whose flaws don't show.

“Shine.

Shine on.

Shiny” [Repeat x times….]

You wake up afraid.

The seven o'clock alarm.

Twitter.

Morning Facebook.

Run.

Fast.

Fast.

Fast.

Frustration.

Eat quickly.

The child is waiting for you.

Eat less.

Quickly.

Loans in twenty-four hours.

Interest rates.

Mortgages.

Easy solutions for a little needle in your face.

Acrobatics to close a bank account.

Anaesthetise yourself on Instagram.

OnlyFans.

Hello, Daddy.

Seven thousand euros for being sugar.

This week's expenses paid.

Pay.

You pay.

Paid.

Fucked.

But don't let it show.

That's what it's for.

To become someone else.

Someone whose marks don't show.

Someone else.

Someone genderless…

“Shine.

Shine on.

Shiny” [Repeat x times….]