From the apparent calmness comes a revolution, from the beast comes a caress. These figures are rugged emotional cyborgs, incapable of simply existing. Their touch is sensitive, their sense of smell is clear, their sight is eagle-eyed. We all cry and fear, we all desire and love and try to fit in, shielded by isolating armours, but we end up trapped in a box that defines us.
What sensitivity do I devise today? What is the extent of intimacy? What do I intend to show if I hardly know myself? Bisonte is a ring of hysteria and melancholy where life is a waltz and dance is there for the taking — and it takes everyone to tango.
A persistent pulse sets the pace beneath the echoes of melodies from what is hidden within us. Gender is faded, making room for a gritty, vulnerable and beautiful existence.
