The themes were many and far between, yet they all centered on the moments before dawn, when the manikins were known to deliver the messages to those still sleeping (but ready to wake) and those still playing in their sleep (many hours from waking...) in so far as there were still movements unknown to the mechanism of sensory acquisition, and colors beyond enchantment, sounds that could alter the landscape, and shadows that would kill. As always, the tragedy of bodies enacted upon by invisible forces was a rose in the humor of the many attempts to shed light upon them.  From the moment one elects to risk all, for the sake of the kiss that promises eternity, there is little resistance to the solemn oath of transparency in all its forms, and little darkness left in the eyes that light up the earth, drive a stake through the hive of time... only the forbidden acts of honey can unravel the dream. The streets no longer follow the mirrors that face each other speaking in tongues, and the doorways open like a lathe of stars in the reflection of the sharpest knife that leads your way and guides you through the warehouse of sighs and rumors. There are only the eyes that kiss the water of the fire that resembles you... only the whispers that soon become precious stones still being formed by loving thoughts.