Exposure

The trap was a tool used as a means to shame sinners and criminals. It was an effective, painless and functional method of demotivating the public. His work was simple, keep the members of the criminal and let the rejection of the crowd make a mark in his subconscious.

The trap works because nobody likes rejection, we are social animals, we are socialized herds, we are interconnected colonies. Contempt can be a much worse punishment than any physical sanction, and many times worse than death itself. The trap, that mechanism so simple, it was for civilizations lost in the depths of history a nightmare for anyone who saw the devastating consequences of becoming an outcast. The sense of public vulnerability, of spectacular fragility, meant that we could only imagine millions of stories, crimes, ideas that were not born out of fear of being ridiculed by the masses.

Ridicule has always been one of the main ways to divert the wrong paths to a more pleasant place for others. We are animals, yes, but that does not exempt us from our obsessive side, we love aesthetic visions, melodic repetitions, collective symmetries. Anything that stands out in the status quo has two possible ends, if it’s new and benign it gets swallowed up general culture and it becomes another part of what seems normal to us, but if it is radical and goes against the interests of the already established, it is condemned to the bitterest rejection.

A feeling of hatred the stranger is so human as a need for the attention of our peers. We compose our lives to achieve that balance between the most primal intimacy and the most vulgar exhibition. In that small space, in that alley, the interactions of those who preceded us rested, but it changed, transformed, we lost that peaceful intertwined life.

Now we keep ourselves in a constant trap, covered by slug sightings from those around us, we are criminals without a crime, paying the price of the future in front of everyone’s watchful eye. Likewise, we witness the ups and downs, happiness and tragedy, of those with whom we share the air. That huge web, that binary spider, has entangled us and now, locked in a cocoon of photos, thoughts and videos, we find ourselves wrapped in the bitter reality of the death of privacy.

But there are some who, within the catastrophic existence we find ourselves in, prevail at the cost of their own sanity. They, as if they were artists on the stage, surrender their souls to the wolves and their bodies to the canvas. They bind to a virtual stocks, smiling at you to those who pass in front of them, they turned the punishment into a reward.

Palms, fleeting sensation recognition and the unspeakable devotion of a non-existent public led some to break their spirits to fill space in the endless ocean of expectation. Because you can no longer grow in yours sadnessyou can no longer work in your solitude, now everyone has an opinion in our heads, now millions of voices invade our thoughts, we censor ourselves to join the mass of puppets, now we cut ourselves off to find ourselves in a sea of ​​bitterness.

The damage is done, an accident representing a thought The only thing that prevents us from growing, from developing, is the collective loneliness in which we drown, preventing the most natural selection from functioning properly. Now we all have supplies in our hands, now we spend all our days exposed to punishment.