Talking of pose, while shooting in back, several questions arise of a staged drama― missing the lethal word, releasing the venom.
Poetry of politics becomes evident. You may spurn the actors, but the pretence overwhelms.
For testing the secret of depth, you go down in water unarmed.
You pull a stretcher, now― unwrapped. The cremains sink in the sea― of tears, unsettling the designed pebbles, the needles. The tapestry starts burning.