Michael Jackson, this alien

Michael Jackson, this alien

I loved him well, Neverland ‘s faded man, a man who could sing with his nose, but he did not have any more, this usurper who managed to call himself Bambi while he was singing the gangs, their fights, Horror, death on raging rages and tempos that were just as much. Part as he lived, in the opposite of a Moonwalk, in the excessive artifice that tinged his life, betrayed by a heart he Has been so much maltreated, as he has deceived that of those who acclaimed him. Rest his work, and there, nothing wrong, if one forgets the image and the messages attached to it.

Carried away by all that the world can do worse: hypermediatization, mercantilism exacerbated, merchants of the temple and doctors aestheticians (can we call them that in view of the results?) Unscrupulous, Michael Jackson was already dead fifteen years ago .
All that remained was a deformed, asexual being, whose scales were lost in mercantilism at all feared.
We must see him dance again, under his human appearance, to make the obvious: Michaël Jacskon was there to do us good, to make us dream, to take us gracefully in a step of dance of a lightness of pen, as on this video.
Reality has joined fiction, like a thriller, the end is horrible: our world transforms angels into demons.



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