Scrim

Only resist. The two of us are fighting against something you
call the New World Order. Before us: roiling figures with
sandpaper voices urgent and angry. We have shrugged off
our clothes but no one points. Maybe that crowd exists only
as shadows on a scrim. Reverse the lighting and the Old
World may reappear: apple tree, palms, fig leaves and you
with the only snake. Now let the play begin...